#how to get a flat stomach overnight

[d0youc0py]

Heyyy. This might b triggering so it’s okay if u don’t do it, but how would 141 + Konig react if reader was @ her friends house and got in the middle of an argument between friend + her bf and friends bf ended up hitting reader? (Kinda self indulgent 🫣)

“You always do this Simon!” You growled, shoving some clothes into an overnight bag.

“Do what?” He snapped back. He stood in the doorway, trying to slow his breathing. He was upset- more than upset, but he refused to loose his patience with you. “Just want to keep you safe kid.” He reminded.

“You’re trying to isolate me!” You shouted, making your way towards the bathroom. “Every time I try to do anything you always tell me it’s not safe- or that I shouldn’t trust this person. Newsflash Simon I have been able to survive on this earth without you.”

“I don’t like him.” He held strong. He wouldn’t compromise with you if he felt you were at risk. Your friend had invited you to spend the night at her house for a sleepover, and when you broke the news to Simon his first question was: ‘will that slag of hers be there?’ To be honest you hadn’t even thought about it. Why did it matter if he was there? You knew Simon trusted you but his constant distrust of other people was starting to wear on you.

“That doesn’t really matter Simon.” You sighed. You stood in front of him expectantly, waiting for him to move out of the frame. “Besides what evidence to you have against him?”

“He’s a strange man.” He responded.

“He’s not a stranger Simon. We’ve been on like three double dates with them.” You huffed, taking it upon yourself to push past him when he refused to move. He growled to himself, following you around the flat. Suddenly his hands gripped your hips pulling you back towards him. His neck bent down and you instinctually made room for his head by tilting yours to the side.

“Just stay home with me tonight, yeah?” The anger left your body at his soft words and the small kisses placed against your neck. “Or at least say you can’t spend the night. No reason for you to be away for that long.” You turned in his arms, placing a kiss against his chin.

“Simon I’ll be fine, yeah?” You murmured, causing another huff to escape him.

•••

That turned out to be a fat lie.

“Do you think Simon’s going to propose anytime soon?” She asked causing you to flush. “You two have been together for what, three, four years?”

“Just two.” You corrected politely. “I don’t know honestly, haven’t really thought about it much.”

“Such a lie.” She snickered, wiggling her brows at you. You rolled your eyes waving her off.

“Keep it down in there!” You both jumped at the sudden boom from the living room.

“Sorry Rick!” Your friend shouted, seemingly unbothered by his nasty tone. A pit formed in your stomach.

“He always talk to you like that?” You asked, keeping your voice down. She looked at you with a small smile.

“Just when I’m bothering him. Surely Simon snaps at you.” She explained. How could she not realize how out of touch her statement was.

“Not like that.” You said.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” You winced as Ricks voice rung out from behind you. How the hell were you suppose to get out of this one? “You comin into my house, filling my girls head with shite?” He snarled. You quickly stood up.

“No, course not.” You smiled, making your way towards the door.

“I’m good to her.” He huffed, following your footsteps. You nodded your head in agreement.

“I’m sure you are.” You offered a weak smile, peaking behind you to make sure you didn’t trip over any furniture. His arm darted out gripping yours, tugging you close to him.

“You’re sure?” He pressed. You were a quivering mess at this point. Fear and adrenaline being to much for your body to process.

“Rick!” Your friend yelled. He threw a harsh ‘shut up’ over his shoulder. Your mind raced trying to remember even just one technique Simon had showed you. You wished you had payed more attention, instead of just staring at his arms the whole time.

“You’re sure?” He growled again giving you a shake.

“Stop!” You shouted. It was met with a harsh smack to your face.

“I’ve got neighbors you little”- His words were cut off as Simon’s words finally rang through your head:

“When in doubt, aim for the balls or the throat.”

You decided the first one was the most viable option. It had caught him off guard enough to loosen his grip and it was all you needed, slamming the front door shut behind you. You had made it down the flight of stairs, your hands searching your pockets for your phone only to realize you had left it inside.

“Fuck.” You whimpered, trying to make heads or tails of where you were. You weren’t overly familiar with this area. But you were familiar with the fast approaching figure heading towards you. “Simon.” You gasped, hurdling yourself towards him. You didn’t know why he was here but you sure as shit weren’t complaining.

Even through your own shakes you could feel him tremble against you. You let out a sob as he tried to pull away from you.

“He touch you?” He growled, none of it’s malice towards you. Your cheek burned and you could only imagine the mark it had left.

“I want to go home.” You sputtered, burying your face in the safety of his shoulder. He swallowed down his anger to the best of his ability.

“Alright, sweetheart.” He murmured against your head. He carried you to the truck, buckling you up. He continued to let you cling to him until you had calmed, and the loudest thing between you two was his pounding heartbeat. “Tell me what happened, yeah?” He hummed, trying his hardest to fake some calmness.

“He grabbed my arm.” You whispered. His chest heaved. “And”- you cut yourself off. Taking a small breath you pulled away from him, his heated eyes quickly falling on the bruise already spreading over half your face. His face flushed, but he was able to hold in the burning of his body.

“Sweetheart.” He said slowly. He pressed his lips against your forehead. “Give me the apartment number.”

“1G.” You said, with surprisingly little hesitation. Whatever Simon was about to do, it was deserved.

When Simon came back he was shockingly clean, and shockingly poised. He tossed your overnight bag into the back seat and handed you your phone when he got into the drivers seat.

“Simon”- he cut you off by tangling both your hands with one of his, pulling out of the parking garage. You didn’t need to know. You didn’t need to know that he had broken down a door- and almost every bone in that man’s body. That he had been waiting outside the apartment building for the past three hours, stewing in his own protectiveness. Your friend wasn’t even mad. She didn’t bat an eye when Simon asked to use her bathroom to clean himself up a bit- not wanting that man’s blood anywhere near your precious body.

He brought your hands up pressing a kiss against your knuckles, pulling into the grocery store parking lot for a bag of frozen peas and ice cream.

He wasn’t suppose to be home yet. He had at least another week away- another week for your bruised face to heal. It had just began to look better, the harsh purple color fading to more of a greenish yellow color.

He opened the door, steadying himself for the only attack he actually enjoyed. Your pressing yourself as close to him as you could, tangling your limbs with any part of him, your lips suffocating any thought he had other than he was finally home with you. His stomach dropped when it never came, shutting to door behind him his bag thumping loud against the floor.

“Sweetheart?” His voice boomed, the worst running through his head. He reminded himself he wasn’t suppose to be home for another week and that you weren’t expecting him. Yet your car was in the driveway and there was still no sign of you.

“I’m here.” His shoulders relaxed, your voice melting his brain just right.

“Where are y”- he stopped himself. You were standing in front of him. The realization as to why you weren’t all over him right now crashing down on him harder than a bullet. You- his literal everything- adorned with a sickening brush on your cheek. The same cheek he would brush his beard against to make you laugh. The same cheek his fingers would stroke to self soothe when his brain was just too loud. The same cheek that would flush berry red when he mumbled certain things against you.

“I can explain.” You said quickly, allowing him to maneuver the two of you to the couch. You quickly found your designated spot on his lap, hoping your touch would cause the storm that was about to ensure lighten.

“I want a name.” His voice was calm. Too calm.

“It was an accident. Fell in the garden and hit myself on that big rock you keep telling me to look out for.”

He wasn’t buying it. His face stone cold, as his thumb traced over the healing brush gently.

“I’ll be good.” He assured. He couldn’t fathom why you wanted to protect this person. Must’ve been someone you knew. “Name, please.”

“John.” You whined, clawing at his shirt. He huffed and relaxed you against him, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

“You don’t want to tell me because you think I’ll overreact.” He couldn’t even blame you for that. The man would happily start a war over you. “I won’t touch ‘em, I promise.” He whispered. His hand rubbed up and down your back and you realized just how much you needed the comfort. His hand stopped at your neck, massaging the tense muscles. “Just need to know who hurt my love, hmm?”

“Promise you won’t hurt anyone?” You insisted using his chest to cover up a yawn. He hummed, nodding his head.

“Rick. Remember Kelsey’s boyfriend? I went over to her house and he showed up drunk yelling at her about some fight they had earlier. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut and before I knew it he hit me.” You explained. The normally comfortable body under you had turned ridged, his heartbeat drumming against your ear. “John?”

“That wasn’t so hard was it?” He chuckled slowly against your temple. “Did you”-

“Put a frozen steak on it? Yeah.”

“I’m sorry that happened darling.” He sighed. His large hands gripped your sides pulling you away from him just for a moment. “If something like that ever happens again you call me, understand?” His eyebrow rose to show his seriousness.

“Yes sir.” You swore a small smile on your lips.

He had kept his promise- he didn’t hurt anyone. But he couldn’t allow someone who hurt you live a comfortable life. It would go against his oath to you if he did.

And besides, someone has to make the enemy afraid of the dark.

He should’ve know better than to leave you alone. He thought that for just one moment while he went to the bathroom it would be safe. You had been tucked under his arm the whole evening, so everyone knew who you were there with. It was his fault for assuming his physique was enough to keep any unwanted advancements away. Time slowed as he came out of the bathroom, his trained eyes spotting you right where he had left you, except you were on the floor. Tears streaming down that perfect face of yours, your own hand cupping your cheek. He didn’t even need to see your best friend pulling at her boyfriends arm in shock- or the way his green eyes stared at his own hand like it had just appeared out of thin air to know what had happened.

Johnny was by your side in an instant, pulling your hazy body to its feet. He’d experienced this before on the field. Everything moving in slow motion- hyper focusing on the important things. Right now it was you.

“Mac.” You gasped, your fingers curling into his shirt sleeve. Like a shockwave he was pulled back into real time. The loud chatter of the bar. The smell of cigarettes and stale beer. The fear rolling off of you. It made his blood boil. He turned to look at Rick his mind going into autopilot. His hand shot out grabbing him by the shirt collar on flinging him backwards. The bar went dead silent the only sound was Ricks body slamming into the wall of liquor bottles behind the bar. Johnny took a few steps forward wanting to finish what he had just started. That wasn’t enough of a punishment. He wouldn’t be happy till he was unrecognizable. “Jo.” Your pleading voice snapped him out of it once more.

In that moment he realized how selfish he was. You were scared and needed assurance, not seeing your husband nearly kill someone. He wrapped a sturdy arm around you guiding you out of the disheveled bar. The cold felt good against your heated bodies.

“I don’t know what happened.” You sputtered, letting the Scot support your body weight. “Camilla was making a joke about how angry Rick gets when she folds his laundry wrong and I made a joke about how she still does his laundry and then he”-

You couldn’t even get through the story.

“Let me see.” Johnny hushed, gently removing your hand from your face. He leaned forward pressing a light kiss against the throbbing flesh. “How bad does it hurt?”

“Six out of ten.” You responded, nuzzling your way back into his strong chest. All you wanted was to be home in bed in the safety of his arms. The smell of pine tickled your brain enough for the tears to stop.

“Should go back there and”-

“No.” You huffed.

“That number is too damn high for me to let him off easy.”

“Easy? You threw the man across the room with one hand.” You reminded.

“Should make it so he only has one hand.”

“Johnny.” The use of his full name stopped the unintelligible Scottish rambling that was sure to ensue. “Can we go home please?”

“Hey sweetheart, need me to come pick you up?” Kyle spoke into the phone that was resting between his shoulder and his cheek. When you sniffled into the phone he didn’t even bother to pause his game, his fingers gripping the device in his hand.

“Ky.” You mumbled. You mumbled in that specific tone that cracked his heart in such a wince worthy way. “I need help.” His blood ran cold.

“Stay on the phone with me, yeah.” He demanded, shoving his feet into a pair of shoes. “What happened?” The sound of his car starting settled you a little bit. “You still at your friends house?”

“No, I’m down the street, by the library.” You sniffed. “He hit me, Ky.”

A sound let Kyles throat- a mix of a growl and a whine. His foot pressed even harder against the accelerator, running straight through a red light. His body was shaking, adrenaline heightening his senses. He wished the two of you didn’t live in such a big city with so much fucking traffic.

“Who’s he?” Kyle snarled.

“Jess’s boyfriend.” You emphasized. “They got into a stupid fight about which Pizza to order for lunch and all I did was fucking agree with her.”

He felt sick. He’d seen a lot of gruesome shit in his life, but the thought of someone hurting you took the cake. He could imagine how scared you were- how scared you are. He can see the tears welling up in your eyes and he imagined your heart rate was about the same as his right now. He can imagine you scrambling to find a way out of there- away from the danger.

“After this we’re practicing those damn self dense moves.” He gritted. You mumbled an ‘okay’ before seeing a familiar sleek, black car pull up next to you.

“How’d you get here so fast?” You questioned, hanging up the phone as he got out of the car.

“Let me see.” He insisted, pressing the back of his palm against your heated cheek. You winced, shying away. “Let’s go get you some ice.” He said mostly to himself. He rested a hand on the back of your neck guiding you to the passenger side.

He kept his hand in your lap the whole drive to the grocery store. “What pizza did he want?”

“Pepperoni with mushrooms.” You replied. The rest of the ride was silent, Kyle went into the store without you.

“Hold this against your face.” He pressed a bag of frozen peas to your cheek. He unwrapped your favorite candy bar, placing it in your lap. Even with your swollen face you couldn’t stop a smile. “I need to make a quick stop before we go home.” His eyes flickered over to you, the same flash of anger striking through him as he took your appearance in. You didn’t think anything of it till he turned down your friends street.

“Kyle.” You mumbled. The last thing you wanted to do was be back here.

“I know baby, I know.” He tried his best to soothe, but he was so riled up. He needed to get this out of his system. Besides he couldn’t just let people hurt you and get away with it. “Stay here, I’ll only be a second.” He closed the door behind him, grabbing a frozen pizza that you didn’t even know he got out of the backseat. You watched anxiously as he made his way up the driveway ringing the doorbell.

The door opened to reveal Rick and Kyle wasted absolutely no time shoving the frozen pizza in his face. The strength of it sent Rick flying backwards and Kyle took the upmost pleasure in the loud crack of his nose breaking.

“Traffic is bad mein Herz. I’m going to be a little late.” You huffed at his words.

“Drive safe I’ll see you soon.”

“He running late?” Your friend questioned as you made your way back into the kitchen.

“Yeah, should be here soon though.” She smiled, taking dinner out of the oven. “Help me set up?” She asked over her shoulder, making her way to the dinning room. You began grabbing the silverware out of the drawer.

“No, Konig?” Rick asked, sitting down at the kitchen island. You shook your head.

“He’ll be here soon.” You assured.

“That’s too bad.” His hand landing on your hip followed his slimy words.

“What are you doing?” You spat, backing away. He shushed you.

“Keep you’re voice down. Don’t want her to find us out, yeah?” He said, nodding his head towards the dinning room.

“There is nothing to find out!” You must’ve said it too loud, because Ricks hand flung forward connecting with your cheek. You dropped the spoons in your hand, then clattering loudly on the floor. You didn’t even have time to feel scared, catching sight of the colossal figure in the doorway.

Rick followed your gaze and it was almost laugh worthy at how quickly he lost all confidence.

“Schatz?” Konig held out his car keys to you. “Wait in the car, please.”

Gentle blue eyes watched you, almost chuckling at the way you skipped over to him. Konig reveled in the way you trusted him. Trusted him to take care of you- to protect you. Later he would wrap you up in his arms and hold a bag of ice to your face, but right now he had other things to deal with.

“And turn the music up. It might get loud in here.”

[powerfultenderness]

neighbour!könig’s reaction when he sees a guy walk out of your apartment . need your thoughts on that

omg, the man is gutted! Absolutely heartbroken! Especially after you asked to sit on his couch like that! 😆 He gets jealous but if you aren't technically together, then he realizes that he doesn't have a right to be so jealous and is a little overwhelmed with sadness!

So, last night König deviated from my outline! How very rude of him. But despite a power outage this morning, he was all over this and provided some fluff of the hurt comfort variety!

Even before he joined the military, he was an early riser. The sun was just starting to rise when he stepped out of this flat and heard the door to your flat open. He turned, smile already lighting his eyes, when instead of seeing you, there was a man. He had a slender but muscular build; the sleeveless workout top he wore gave plenty of proof of the man’s definition. The man, taller than you, shorter than him, looked at him a little warily, good. The man gave him a subtle nod as if to greet him then went down the stairs ahead of him. 

A sense of smugness, along with the sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of you with another man, washed over him as he noticed how quickly that man moved, how quickly he tried to run. König’s long stride made it easy to keep up, though, and he was only a step behind as the guy exited the building. He watched as the man practically sprinted to… guest parking. That was it then, you had had an overnight guest, a man. And König found himself jealous. 

-

He tried to ignore the bitter, pitiful, sensation that plagued him all day, but was not very successful. What was he supposed to think of when thoughts of you led to the sad reminder that you had chosen someone else? He certainly shouldn’t be thinking about using the man’s license plate number to find out more about him, where he worked, for instance. 

Now on his way home for the evening, climbing up the stairs to his flat, beer and food in his hands, he was met with another painful sight. The man was back, leaving again apparently, and you leaned forward, pressed your lips to the left side of his face, then again to the right side. 

“Alright, be careful!” You bid the man good night, “text me when you get home.” 

König wanted to sigh, he pouted underneath his hood. The way you had the capacity to care for others so much was one of the things he liked about you, but right about now, he wished you only cared for him.

“Oh! Hi, König!” You caught him before he could enter his flat.

He looked at you and tried to smile, but even he could tell it didn’t quite meet his eyes. "Hello."

“I have something for you!”

“Me?” You nodded, “hold on a sec, let me grab it!”

He unlocked and left his door open while you disappeared for a second, just so he could put his groceries down. You came back, knocking on the open door, with a plastic food container and a smile adorning your face.

“Come,” he invited you in, his prior sorrow temporarily forgotten at your friendly disposition. Friends, yes, maybe friends was ok.

“Liliana wanted you to have some cake! She said after all that candy you bought, you must have a sweet tooth!” 

He took the offered confection and set it down on the table, next to his beer. “It’s her birthday?” 

“No. She had this big performance today. The whole family gathered at my sister’s place to congratulate her. The place was pretty crowded, with my parents there too, so my brother stayed with me last night.” 

König blinked. “Your…brother?” Now that he thought about it, the man did bear a slight resemblance to you…

“Mmhm.” You nodded then tilted your head, “what’s up with you? Everything ok?” The man was your brother! 

König let out a loud and boisterous laugh. “Everything is perfect! Please thank the little mouse for me!” 

“Mouse?” You scoffed, “wait till you get to know her.” You’re pretty sure she loudly told you to take a slice of cake to your “nice neighbor man” to embarrass you in front of the family, little shit. 

He laughed again, “I would like to!” Because that would mean you incorporating him into your life even more! “Will you eat with me?” He asked once his chuckling faded.

“Well, I’ve had my fill of cake, but I’d love to hang out.” 

Oh, he’d love that too!

[More neighbor König]

[astroboots]

RED FLAGS ║ PART 8

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader x Marc Spector (x hints of Jake Lockley)

Summary: You and Steven talk and you make a decision. Or alternatively: You spill the beans and things get messy.

Content: 'tis be an angsty one! anxiety, panic attacks, tears, hurt/comfort.

Word Count: 6,400

Series Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

The door to Steven’s flat has never looked as intimidating as it does right now. The frame is taller than you remembered, and the ornate black panelling seems to have an almost gothic undertone. You can’t help but feel like a supplicant come to receive judgement. 

Trying to calm your racing heart, you smooth a hand over Marc’s jacket where it’s carefully folded and draped over your arm, all the identifying bits of collar and zipper and pockets turned inward. You’re not sure if Steven would even recognize the tan canvas jacket—you’ve never seen him wear it—but it still feels like you’re carrying a red flashing neon sign announcing your deception to everyone who sees it.

One last check to make sure you’re presentable, one last deep breath, then you raise a hand to knock on the door. The sound echoes loudly in the quiet of the hallway. You hear the thump and creak of feet approaching the door and then the metallic sound of locks being undone before the door is jerked open. Steven appears in the opening, staring at you with wild eyes and even wilder hair. 

“You’re here,” he says, and his eyes soften, relief bleeding into his features. “Thanks. Sorry. Sorry, I–” A renegade curl falls into his eyes, and his hand reaches up to smooth it back against his forehead before he gestures you inside. “Come in, please. I need you to– I have to ask you something.”

Your stomach lurches, certain that you’ve been found out, even if you don’t know what for yet.  

You follow him in, hyper-aware of Marc’s jacket. It seems to burn into the skin of your forearm, even through the sleeve of your jumper. You can’t even bring yourself to look at the fish tank, eyes skirting around it even as you search for a place you can divest yourself of the jacket, somewhere where Steven won’t immediately notice. 

But it’s too late, Steven’s already guiding you to his bed, so you go, taking a seat and setting the jacket down carefully behind you while he’s facing the other way. Maybe you can contrive to push it off the head of the bed somehow? Surely Steven won’t notice in all the mess.

“So Gus’ fin grew back,” Steven says, and your heart stops, all thoughts skittering away from your brain as your eyes fly up in panic to meet Steven’s. He hesitates, turning to look at the fish tank where the imposter fish is swimming in all his incriminating two-finned glory and then back at you, “and I feel like that’s not quite… normal, yeah?”

And there it is.

Your heart, previously lodged in your throat, sinks to the pit of your stomach.  

Your ploy with Marc was always inevitably going to come back and haunt you, wasn’t it? Steven isn't stupid. As frazzled as he often seems, perpetually sleep deprived and forgetful, he's clever. One of the most intelligent people you've ever met. Of course this man—this brilliant, observant man—was going to notice that his goldfish had magically regrown a fin overnight. 

“I– I don’t–” The words freeze in your throat as Steven turns to stare at you, brows furrowed, gaze piercing in a way that’s so very unlike him, (but very like someone else you know), and your chest clenches.

“It's not just me, right? Gus has– had only one fin. He had one fin yesterday, but today he has two.” 

Oh god. You don’t know what to say. 

Do you pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about? Agree that it must have grown back? Make up some excuse about how you never paid much attention to Gus’ fins anyway? 

You’re so bloody tired of making excuses.

“You think I'm mad don't you? That I've lost it completely?” Steven says it quietly, a small sad smile on his face, and your heart aches.

You still don’t have an answer for him

Why couldn't Marc have cut one fin off like you told him to? Why couldn't he have just left Gus’ corpse where he found it? Easier to explain a dead fish than a live one that’s suddenly regrown a limb!

In front of you, Steven’s shoulders sag, and you can feel your loyalties wavering. The deep-rooted love you have for this man warring with your promises to the man who came to your door because you’re the only one he had, the only person he could trust.

Steven doesn't say another word, and you bite your lip as you watch him trudge over to a chair and slump down into it. Back curling, he bends over until his elbows are on his knees and stares blindly at the fish tank.

“Maybe you're right, maybe I have gone mad. Fish don't magically regrow fins overnight, do they? No. No, they definitely do not. Oh god.” His fingers dig into his hair, gripping it hard. It hurts just to look at him, and you worry that if he doesn't ease up he's going to end up ripping it out by the roots. 

It physically pains you to see him like this, doubting his own sense of reality. The guilt is screaming inside you until you feel it burrowing into the marrow of your bones. You have done this to him. 

You're gaslighting the man you love, and for what? 

This is such a mess, of first Marc’s and now your making. You had somehow convinced yourself that you were staying mum to protect Steven, but keeping things secret has only made everything worse.

You desperately want to tell Steven the truth. But if you tell him about the truth about Gus, you’ll have to tell him the truth about Marc. You’ll have to tell him that all this time—months and months—you've kept that secret from him. Lied to him.

He's going to hate you. 

For just a moment, you get a flash of memory. Of those beautiful brown eyes pinning you down as you stood inside the lift, fleeing from this very flat the first night you spent together. Of the look in them that said you meant nothing to him. 

You don't know if you can survive seeing that look in Steven’s eyes when he’s only ever looked at you with love. You feel like you might vomit at the very thought of losing him, but… it’s not for you to decide is it? 

The words you once threw at Marc during one of your very first conversations echo back to you: He deserves to know.

You’ve got to tell Steven the truth. All of it. Even if it earns you his anger or his hatred. And if he breaks up with you over it, well… that’s his decision, isn’t it? 

Steven deserves to know the truth. Even if it means you lose him forever. 

Misery, resolve and resignation solidify into a lead weight in your chest, and you rise to your feet, ignoring how wobbly they feel. It’s as if you're walking on sinking sand instead of the firm wooden floorboards as you make your way over to him, standing close enough that your knees touch.

Raising your hand to his shoulder, you rub the tense muscle to comfort him. It doesn't help, he's still rigid and unresponsive. 

“Steven,” you call out softly, and you can feel his body respond to your voice, the tension softening underneath your fingers.  “You've not gone mad. You’re right. Gus only had one fin, this fish has two. You're not imagining things, I promise.”

He's still quiet, and you lean down cupping your hands on each side of his cheeks to tilt his face up. He meets your gaze, wide-eyed and trusting, and you pause for just a moment, fixing this instant in your memory because you don’t know if he’ll ever look at you like this again. 

Then you take a deep breath and do what must be done.

“You're not mad,” you repeat, then quickly before you can change your mind or Marc can interrupt, you blurt out, “you have D.I.D.”

“D-I– …D?” Steven repeats slowly, “I– I don’t understand?” 

“Dissociative Identity Disorder,” you clarify. 

He just stares at you blankly, so you continue, despite your trembling nerves and the near certainty that you are doing and saying this entirely wrong.

“I don’t think it’s a sleeping disorder that’s causing your problems, Steven. I think you have Dissociative Identity Disorder. I’m– I’m pretty sure.”

There’s a moment of absolute silence. So quiet you can hear the fish tank filter buzzing away, and you force yourself to meet Steven’s gaze as he gapes at you in disbelief.

“You think I have–” Steven trails off, then forces an incredulous laugh, “What, like in Split or Psycho!?”

“Oh god no! Those are awful representation of– No. Look, it's nothing like that.” 

“Why would you–” His brows draw together in a frown, and his eyes narrow, then widen, then narrow again before they focus in on you. “Why do you think I have D.I.D?”

“Well, I’ve… um…,” It’s been ages since you’ve thought about how this conversation might go, and you feel vastly underprepared, cringing at the clumsiness of your words even as you say them, “I’ve sort of… seen it?”

“What do you mean you’ve seen–? Oh. Oh God,” his pupils blow wide, and you can almost see the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place for him, the paradigm shift as Steven’s perception of reality crumbles before your eyes. “You’ve met one of them then. Haven’t you?”

“I–” You don’t even get the word out before he’s barrelling on.

“You must’ve. That’s what happened that first night at my flat, isn’t it?” His voice is loud and sharp, almost accusatory, and your stomach twists and knots into itself as he turns away from you and shoves one hand into his hair, yanking at it. “That’s why you were so upset. Why you left. Why you didn’t want to talk about it or spend the night with me.”

“Oh god,” He whirls back to you suddenly, eyes wide with fear, “What happened that night? What did I– Are you all right!?”

“Nothing. Nothing bad happened, Steven, I promise. I’m all right. Everything’s all right.” Another lie on your tally. You’re not sure things are ever going to be all right between the two of you again after this.

“Oh god. You really are sure, aren't you? I can’t–” he turns away again to pace the length of the floor in front of the fish tank, and your heart breaks at how upset he sounds.

“All this time,” he mutters in agitation, “All the times I’ve blacked out. Lost track of time. Woken up somewhere odd. It’s all been that, hasn’t it? Them. Another person inside of me.” He pauses then, “All the mornings you were gone when I woke up…”

It hurts you to hear him like this. You let things go on too long. You should’ve told him earlier.

Without forewarning, he stops, shoulders drawn back into a painfully straight line. You hold your breath for several heart-stopping moments, and then he turns slowly, rounding on you.  

“If you knew…” he begins quietly, eyes meeting yours again, but where there was fear before, they are now sharp and guarded, fear replaced with caution.  “Why didn't you tell me?”

You take a deep breath. The moment drags out, and you wish you could hold your breath for an eternity so you’d never have to answer, never have to risk losing Steven, but reality doesn’t work that way. You owe him this. The whole truth, even if it breaks things between you.  

“He asked me not to.”

His eyes narrow, nose flaring. For the first time since you’ve met him, you watch Steven’s soft brown eyes turn hard and steely, and you have to fight back the tears that prickle at your own.  Even though you knew full well that your confession might earn you his anger, it still hurts to see him look at you this way.

“He… asked you?” His voice is so much lower than what you are used to, murky and dark, dripping with tar, and it makes your heart race several notches faster in alarm to hear it. 

“You spoke to him?” he presses, “What did you two–” The accusation is raw in his voice, and your neck prickles with anxiety. He pauses. “Did he– Did he threaten you?”

“What? No, Steven, I don’t–?” You’re bewildered by the sudden change of direction.

“Did he hurt you?” he interrupts you to demand again, “Did he harm or threaten you in any way?” His eyes are desperate, wild. And you suddenly understand that he’s not angry at you. He’s angry at Marc. 

God, you’re really buggering this up right properly, aren’t you? Now you’ve managed to ruin Steven’s relationship with Marc before it’s even had a chance to start.

“No. No, Steven,” you hurry to reassure him, trying to undo as much of the damage that you've already done. Trying desperately to explain. “He didn't hurt me. He would never.”

“If he had– If... I had hurt you–” Steven’s anger breaks, along with his voice as he continues, “God, I could have hurt you, and I wouldn’t even have known. I-I-I need help. Need to be locked away to keep people around me safe.  I can't–”  

He backs away from you as he speaks as if he fears just being near you might somehow cause you physical harm. You had thought his anger was the worst thing you might have to face. But this—watching his raw pain and fear at the thought that he might have hurt you, might be dangerous—is an incomparable hell that you could never have imagined. 

“No, Steven. No! You’d never hurt anyone–”

Shaking his head at you, he continues to retreat, backing up until his back hits the bookshelf with a solid thud, and he winces at the impact. 

You reach out for him, wanting to soothe his pain and distress and make sure he’s not harmed.

“Don’t!” he shouts, and you flinch, immediately yanking your hand back as his words sear your fingertips. 

“I can't–” He turns sharply away from you to resume pacing. 

You watch him pace, swallowing down the stab of pain of his rejection because it’s only what you deserve, isn’t it? You should have told him sooner. Should never have lied to him in the first place.

“Something’s wrong,” Steven pants out, “This doesn’t– This doesn’t feel right.” His physical agitation is visible. He's breathing heavily, all hunched in on himself, and stops to brace himself against the side of the fishtank. “Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.”

You raise a hand, but you don’t quite dare reach out again; open your mouth to speak, but you don’t know what to say. Your eyes sting with tears, and you feel helpless. Hopeless. You don’t know what to do to help him.

“I think– Think I’m having a p-panic attack. I think–” he stutters out, those soft hands clutching at his chest like it hurts him, “Oh god. I can't– Can’t breathe. I can’t–” 

You’re just beginning to realise what’s happening, when Steven slumps over, dropping to his knees on the floor, body going stiff and rigid.

“Steven!” You scramble forward to grab his shoulders, crouching down to brace yourself in case you need to catch him.

His eyes roll back, and for a horrifying moment, all you can see is the whites of them under his fluttering eyelids. 

Oh God, is he having a seizure?! Fuck, no no no no!

Suddenly his whole body stills. Those brown eyes open slowly in a suddenly calm face, and he raises one eyebrow, regarding you sardonically. 

This isn’t Steven anymore. 

“You just had to tell him, didn’t you?” are the first words out of Marc’s mouth. 

Your face burns. Your throat closes up. Any ounce of composure left in you has been worn paper thin, tearing at the seams. 

You can't take any more of this. After everything that's happened in the clusterfuck that is the last 24 hours of your life—your blunder of an almost kiss, the sleepless night, your mortifying sex-dream in the Uber, your confrontation with Steven, seeing him so upset—this is the last straw. It’s all just too much. 

Something gives way inside of you, and you fall to your knees. The tiny pain from your kneecaps impacting the hardwood is lost in the hurricane of emotions building in your chest. Misery, humiliation, shame, fear, regret—all the feelings you’ve pushed down for god knows how long are roiling together, cracking against your ribs and climbing your throat like bile, no longer willing to be contained or ignored. Tears sting your eyes. You try to fight them back, but it’s no use. You’re crying, and it feels like just one more miserable indignancy. 

God, you’re pathetic.

Across from you, Marc’s stern expression shifts. Steel-cut eyes, fading into something softer, sadder, even as the line of his mouth tightens.

He doesn’t say anything, just raises a tentative hand to your shoulder. When you don’t flinch or pull away, it presses there more firmly before sliding down across your shoulder blade to the small of your back.

The comforting gesture overwhelms your last desperate hold on your composure, and you collapse forward against him, burying your face in his chest. He still smells faintly of clean linens blended with the soap you’re used to on Steven, just like he did when you were pressed against him on the DLR. That was only twenty four hours ago, and yet it feels like a different lifetime entirely.

His arms come up to surround you in a gentle hug, and you’re struck all over again by how warm and solid he is. The thought barely has time to sink in before the guilt and shame floods you all anew. 

This is not the time. This is not the right person. You shouldn’t be feeling anything for Marc right now, and you can’t help but descend into full ugly sobbing.

Marc’s arms squeeze tight where they’re wrapped around you, then gravity shifts as he sits back, dragging you down into his lap. He settles you there against him, one large hand running slowly up and down your spine, and holds you while you cry.

It’s embarrassing and pathetic and exactly what you need right now, and you sob your heart out there against his chest, trying not to get too much snot all over his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you eventually manage to choke out through your tears,  “I-I shouldn't have told him like that. Should have done it better. Sooner.”  Every word comes out stuttering, garbled with thick mucus and gasping sobs. 

Marc merely hums and continues to stroke your back. You wonder if he can understand a word you’re saying, or if he’s being polite so you won’t descend deeper into hysteria.

After a long moment, the force of the sobs pushing against your diaphragm start to fade a little, settling into more sedate tears and the occasional hiccup, and Marc pulls back slightly, shifting you to one side. You watch, puzzled, as he uses one hand to tug the end of his sleeve down over the other. 

Understanding dawns when he lifts it to your face, using the softworn cotton fabric to wipe your soggy, tear-soaked cheeks. You’re stunned by the gentle gesture. Your skin burns where he touches you, but you’re not sure if it's the scrape of the damp material over irritated flesh or the physical proximity of the man in front of you. 

“Why does he never get clothes that fit?” Marc mutters, grouching like an old man at Steven’s sartorial choices. 

That forces a choked laugh out of you, disrupting the pressure in your chest and throat long enough that you can finally catch a full breath. 

When you look back at Marc, there's the faint hint of a pleased smile there at the curve of his lips. It might be the softest expression you’ve ever seen him wear. It reminds you of Steven, and your heart breaks all over again, more tears pushing up behind your eyelids.

“I should never have lied,” you choke out on a strained, ugly sob, “I should have told him from the start, should never have allowed it to go on for as long as it did. And oh God, he was so upset there at the end. Scared and angry and– And it’s all my fault. I did that. I broke him.”

“You didn't break anything. He’s not broken. Maybe we need some help, yeah. But nothing’s broken.”

You nod and sniffle, trying to take some comfort from his words. To your surprise, Marc continues to speak.

“Steven will get through this. You too. You'll be fine.”

And that's.... that’s good, isn’t it? That’s what you want, but…. 

But there's some small horrible part of you that's selfishly worried about if you and Steven will be able to get through this together. If there will even be a ‘you and Steven’ anymore, once you see him again. 

“He'll never be able to forgive me,” you whisper, giving voice to your worst fear. The words are hoarse as you continue, spewing out the worry and self-contempt you’re drowning in, “And he shouldn't! He should hate me.”

“He’s not gonna hate you.” Marc's voice is gruff and impatient, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to comfort you or scold you. 

“But I lied to him—for months! What kind of partner does that? I’m despicable. Steven must think that I'm a monster.”

“He doesn’t think that. Trust me, Steven doesn’t hate you.”

“You don't know that.”

“I know,” he counters, implacable. “How can you possibly know!?” you demand in despair, your throat is scratched raw and clogged with tears. 

“We share a body. Steven may not know what happens when he’s not in the driver’s seat, but I do. Words. Feelings. It's all there. Just distorted.”

That gives you pause.

“‘Distorted’ how?” 

You’d never considered that Marc might remember when Steven didn’t. But he does—of course he does. How else would he have known about you in the first place?

“Like– Like being a fly on the wall. I don’t have control, but I see what’s happening. I feel what he’s feeling.”

“Wait…” You tense in his arms as a horrifying thought occurs to you, a montage of every intimate moment you and Steven have shared playing out in mortifying technicolour behind your eyes. “You've been in there watching this whole time!?”

Marc must sense what you're thinking because he shakes his head, looking away briefly. “Not the whole time. Sometimes. Enough. Enough to know how Steven feels about you.”

Despite his reassurance, you’re not convinced, and Marc must see it. His hand comes up, running haphazardly over his hair before he looks up at the ceiling, the hand smoothing across his mouth in a gesture of frustration as he tries to find his words. 

“Steven... likes you. Likes you so much that it feels like his heartbeat is about to burst out of his chest when you’re around. He likes being with you. Sitting with you. Spending time with you. It doesn't matter what you do. You don’t even have to be talking. If you’re there, he’s happy. You make him happy.”

“Steven makes me happy too," you whisper. 

An image of Steven sitting at a restaurant table with flowers and chocolate, his whole face lit up with excitement at your arrival forms in your mind's eye, and you find yourself smiling through your tears.

“He’s so thoughtful. And smart. And… and… awkward sometimes,” you continue with a small wet laugh, wiping your damp cheeks with the back of your hand, “but only because he cares so much. He just has this way about him, you know? Where he always gives one hundred per cent of himself to… well… everything, really.” 

Marc nods sympathetically. You know you’re rambling, but you don’t seem to be able to stop. Marc shows no signs of stopping you either, so you keep nattering on, pouring out the things you love about Steven. The things you wish you’d said to him when you had the chance.

“If he’s happy or enthusiastic about something, there’s no hiding it, is there? Not when his smile lights up the whole bloody room.” Your chest squeezes tightly into itself until it’s hard to speak, “I just…”

“I just love him.” The words are squeaky and ragged from being choked out past the rising lump in your throat, and you can feel tears beginning to well up anew. “And it hurts so much to see him struggling with something he can’t understand. He doesn’t deserve that. I just… I just wanted him to be able to have a happy, normal life. For us to have a happy, normal life together.

“You’re not wrong to want that,” Marc says quietly. He sounds distant, almost introspective. “You deserve it. So does he.”

“But now I’ve gone and buggered it all up, haven’t I? We’ll never get to have that now.”

For the first time tonight, there’s no answer, no response from Marc, and when you look up at him, you find him staring off over your shoulder, eyes dull, mouth set in a grim line.

“Marc…?” “Yeah.” His voice is faint, hoarse as his gaze turns towards you slowly, blinking like he’s coming out of a trance. It grows stronger, more determined once he meets your eyes, “Yeah, no. You’re gonna get to have that. You and Steven are gonna get to have a normal, happy life together. The one you deserve.” “I don’t– I don’t know if Steven will forgive me for lying to him, Marc.” Your throat tightens, bile burning the lining of your stomach as you try to make peace with that truth, “That will have to be his choice.”

“He’ll forgive you. I’m gonna take care of it. I’ll fix everything. You don’t have to worry about anything anymore.”

You desperately want to believe him. And looking at the determination in Marc’s eyes, the resolved set to his jaw, you almost do. This is a man who would move heaven and earth to keep his promises. But as much as you trust him, some things are out of his hands. There’s only so much Marc can “fix.” He can’t control Steven’s feelings or undo your decision to lie to him in the first place.

Still, the fact that Marc is trying so hard to comfort you warms you. You observe the stubborn set of his jaw with fondness, and you can feel yourself relaxing, just the tiniest bit.

“Marc, I–” you pause, struggling with what to say before settling on, “Thank you. For… for taking care of me.” You barely get the last word out before being overtaken by a jaw-cracking yawn, the tiredness you’ve been keeping at bay all evening rising up to overwhelm you.

“You should go home,” Marc says, not unkindly, “Get some sleep. It’s late.”

Dragging your eyes to the clock on the wall, you realise that it’s nearly half-eleven. After barely catching any sleep last night (and what you did catch was hardly restful), it’s no wonder your nerves are shot. 

You’re physically exhausted, head aching from all the crying, and when you think of the commute home, you want to weep all over again. You’re just so tired. You can’t imagine how you’re going to drag yourself up off the floor, much less down to the tube, but you’re bloody well not getting into another taxi or Uber right now.

“Can I… um… Would it be all right if I stayed and slept here?” 

“Yeah. That’s fine. C’mon.” He helps you to your feet and gently guides you to your side of the bed. 

You climb in, dragging the covers haphazardly up over your legs as you lay back against the blissfully welcoming pillows. 

Seemingly unsatisfied, Marc takes over. Reaching down and grabbing the edge of the quilt, he pulls it the rest of the way up and over you until he can tuck it in snugly around your shoulders. The floorboards creak as he rises to stand, and you’re seized by a sudden fear that if he leaves now it might be the last you see of him or Steven.

“Wait!”

Marc pauses, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

“Could you...”  You look down, embarrassed by what you want to ask, but really, after every other mortifying thing you’ve done in front of him recently, what’s one more? “Could you stay with me?” 

You drag your eyes back up to his face just in time to see that inquiring eyebrow hitch higher still, so you rush on, “Just until I fall asleep. Please? I’d rather not be by myself right now.” 

Marc hesitates, shoulders tensing up, and you're gearing yourself up for his refusal when he sighs and acquiesces with a nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'll stay.”

You’re so grateful you feel like you could cry all over again, but you’ve put Marc through quite enough of that already tonight. Instead, you give him a small tired smile and scoot over to make room, rolling onto your side to face him as he sits down on the edge of the bed. 

He sits turned slightly towards you and watches you tuck your hands under your chin, trying to get comfortable. 

After you settle, he lifts one hand towards your face, and for a moment you almost expect him to cup your cheek like Steven would, but then his hand hesitates, stilling briefly in mid-air before coming to rest onto your shoulder.  Right, of course, how silly of you. Of course Marc isn’t going to touch your face. 

You gaze up at him, taking in the easy way he watches you, his expression open, shoulders more relaxed than you’ve ever seen them. You do your best to take in every detail and micro expression, wanting to etch every inch of that handsome face into your permanent memory just in case it all goes to shit after this. It’s Marc’s face, but also Steven’s, and even if there are distinct differences between the two of them, it is undeniably the very same face of the man you love.  

Marc’s gaze doesn’t waver from you, and his attention is comforting. The heavy weight of his hand on your shoulder makes you feel safe, and your eyelids feel equally heavy. You can barely keep them open. 

His dark eyes are the last thing you see before sleep claims you.

You wake to an empty bed. 

Steven’s side of the mattress is cold, and for once there's no gentle symphony of cooking noises from the kitchen in place of his weight next to you. 

Opening your eyes, all you see is the white sheets, the wrinkled pillow and… your handbag? There’s no pile of folded clothes next to you, and it's not until you sit up, clutching the quilt to your already-clothed chest out of habit, that you remember why things are different.

You look out over the empty space and realise that you’re alone. It's eerily quiet in the flat. London should not be this quiet. It feels wrong to be here without Steven or Marc, like you’re an intruder, trespassing where you don’t belong.

The flat looks different without them as well. The clutter of books, scribbled notebooks and knick-knacks usually make the vast space feel homely and lived in. But now, without Steven sitting at his desk pouring over books or Marc standing by the kitchen counter cleaning up crumbs, the mess just makes the space look derelict and unattended. It feels so empty that it might as well be abandoned. 

Reaching for your handbag, you realise belatedly that Marc’s jacket is missing. It’s not there where you left it on the bed or lost somewhere under the covers, and when you scramble up to peer over the edge of the mattress, it’s not on the floor either. Marc must have taken it with him. 

It feels stupid to miss something you’ve barely been able to look at the last few days, but there it is. Not knowing what else to do, you fish your phone out of your bag. When the screen lights up, you find a text from Marc, sent hours ago, waiting for you in your notifications. 

Marc I have to leave again. You won't be able to reach me. Steven will be back. Don't worry. 

You settle into a seated position, still groggy from sleep, and start typing out a response. 

You Thank you for letting me know.  Please be careful and come back safe.  Both of you.

Marc leaves you on read. 

It's been a long time since that's happened, and it leaves you feeling odd. The whole situation feels odd, and it leaves an unsettling bitter clump in your throat, even as you try to tell yourself there's nothing to worry about. 

Days go by without communication from Marc or Steven, and an uncanny sense of deja vu starts to creep up on you. It's like you're transported back to the early days right after Marc “officially” introduced himself. When he'd taken Steven and disappeared on you, leaving only a string of numbers written in pen on the palm of your hand. 

The difference between then and now is that you know Marc now. You trust him.  

There's no mad panic this time. No fear that Steven's disappeared on you forever and you’ll never see him again. No mountain of crumpled up paper and sticky notes on your desk, no crazy conspiracy theories or attempts to crack some secret code. Marc said he'd bring Steven back safe, and so he will. It's as simple as that. 

Life just… goes on. You go to work and come home. You eat dinner, watch the telly for a bit and then go to bed. In the morning, you rinse and repeat. 

It’s a bit like having a phone call put on hold—Marc’s text filling the role of that polite automated voice on the other end telling you that you’re a valued customer and they’ll take your call as soon as they can, no indication of how long you might be left to wait.

That’s not to say that you don’t worry. You may not be worried about Steven not coming back, but you are worried about what will happen once he does. 

Marc said he'd “fix everything,” but some things aren't fixable. He can't turn back time or change what's already been done. You behaved badly, lied to Steven for months, and even if your decision to do so came from a place of love and worry for him, that doesn't mean Steven will be okay with it. 

You just wish you had some indication of how he felt about everything.

You do your best to not wallow in that uncertainty. But in the quiet evenings, even the loud noise of the telly isn't enough to drown out your thoughts, it always comes back to you. 

In those hours, against your own better judgement, you always end up painting elaborate scenarios of the moment Steven returns to you.  It's that itch you should leave alone, swelling only getting worse every time you scratch until it becomes an infected wound, and still, you can't stop yourself. 

In one version he's angry, disappointed in another, and in the worst one: hurt. He's always asking you the very question that you've repeatedly asked yourself. ‘How could you?’

In every scenario, you're unable to give any explanation that could possibly vindicate you. All you can think to say is: “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” You hope it’ll be enough.

Some things aren't fixable. You can only pray your relationship with Steven isn't one of them.

It's another Saturday night, and you're on the sofa, eating Chinese take-out straight from the box. The telly is blasting out an old rerun of Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares, the swear-filled hollering of the chef almost comforting in how loud it is. It's drowning out both your own thoughts and all other background noise with bleeped-out expletives on maximum volume. 

You're picking escaped bits of noodle out of the sofa cushions, when you think you hear three gentle taps on your door.

It's so quiet that you think at first it's just your imagination playing tricks on you. Or perhaps your neighbours banging around. Something pinches at your chest, and you look up at the clock on your wall. Almost midnight. No one would knock on your door at this hour, least of all– 

But... what if it is him? 

Reaching forward, you grab the remote and turn off the telly. You hold your breath, you strain your ears, listening for any break in the sudden silence. 

The knocking repeats. It's a quiet noise, almost patient and polite, but this time you can tell it's definitely coming from your door. There's only one person in the world who knocks on your door instead of using the bell because he knows it always startles you. 

Anticipation hums in your chest, and you throw yourself off the sofa so fast you go lightheaded from getting up so suddenly. You dash towards the door, narrowly missing your ottoman—honestly you have no idea why you keep the bloody thing—and hurry down the short hall. A sudden attack of nerves makes your fingers clumsy, and you fumble with the lock, your thumb slipping against the latch. 

What if it's not him?  

What if it's just some inappropriate door salesman? Or what if it is him, and he's really angry with you? What if– You finally get the bloody thing undone and throw the door open with enough force to rip it off its hinges. 

He stands there at the threshold of your door, one hand still lifted as if to knock again. 

You stop dead, your heart pounding like it’s trying to beat its way out of your chest. The two of you stare at each other, and it feels as if the whole world is holding its breath.  Finally, you manage to kick your frozen body back into working order long enough to breathe out a single word—

“Steven.”

~ CONTINUE ~

Author's note: Phew! When I said this chapter gave us trouble, you guys don't even know the half of it. My poor (encouraging and supportive) writer friends has heard me screech and moan and cry about this one so much that they get PTSD flashbacks when they hear the term "Red Flags" now.

Dedication

There isn't enough credit and dedication and kudos that exists in the world to do @thirstworldproblemss justice or adequately describe how she spearheaded this chapter. She picked this story up when I was unable to take it further and polished it and shined it and fixed it and turned it into the absolute diamond that it is. I cannot tell you the number of times we've hit a snaffu in writing this series, where I felt that I couldn't see left from right in the fog as thick as Silent Hill 2, where I felt the quality was just not there. And she comes with her keyboard and magic wand and like a fairy godmother make it all pretty and right and perfect and good.

But more importantly than that, TWP you held my hand when I was being an insufferable Titanic ship of a wreck of a human being after I hit the iceberg of exhaustion. This story would not exist without you. I would not be on tumblr still without you. You mean the whole friggin' world to me. I adore you xx

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 49

Things change in Jackson but the most important things stay the same. The final chapter of Lavender, found in its entirety on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut! No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 7.3k

Sunday, October, 4, 2026

“Hey Joel!” Suzanne, a woman who worked at the clinic with you, ran up to him as he made his way home after an overnight patrol. “Do you know where Doc is?” 

“Think all my girls are at home,” he frowned a little. “Not sure, haven’t been there yet since gettin’ back but I’m heading there now… Everything OK?” 

“Think we’ve got an appendicitis,” she winced as she said it. “If she’s home, can you send her our way? Save me the trouble of going to look at your place.” 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Joel said. “I’ll see if I can track her down if she’s not there but it’s Sylvie’s nap time so can’t imagine she’d go far…” 

Suzanne smiled gratefully and ran back into the clinic, her ponytail swinging. 

Joel was eager to get home to you under any circumstance but even more so after doing an overnight patrol. He’d been away from you too long. He never slept well on patrol, never slept well if he was somewhere he couldn’t touch you, feel you breathing next to him. Whenever he got back, he usually spent five minutes just holding onto you, centering himself on you and the feeling of you in his arms again. But now you’d be running out the door right away. Even though he knew appendectomies were relatively easy and that you’d only be gone a few hours at the most, it was hard to not be a little frustrated by it. 

“Hey Love,” you smiled when he came in, stretched out on the couch with a ribbon tied like a headband in your hair and his daughter asleep on your chest. “Didn’t want to risk moving her, both of your kids have been in rare form today…” 

Sylvie, now 18 months old, shifted ever so slightly on her mother’s chest, her little features drawn in for a second - as if to prove a point - before relaxing. Her hair was getting long, her thick, dark curls a clone of her father. Her eyes were, too, when they were open. Joel knew them well. It seemed like he’d done nothing but stare at her for months after she was born, the combination of you and him something too beautiful to look away from. 

It sometimes felt to Joel that there was some part of the universe that always wanted your child to exist. You got pregnant so fast. He couldn’t be sure but the timing of the day at the lake made sense, like the only thing stopping the creation of you and him together was the power of modern medicine. The moment there was nothing preventing it she sprang into being, all but inevitable. 

Joel was surprised at just how much he loved seeing you pregnant. It hadn’t been something that he’d ever considered before now, not something he’d ever been drawn to before now. But looking at you, knowing you were growing his child, knowing your body was changing because of him somehow made you even more beautiful. 

Lucky for him, your hormones made you practically insatiable - not that you’d ever had a low sex drive. But it went from sex most nights to sex every night, often twice, and once again in the morning if you woke up with enough time before needing to get yourselves or Ellie out the door. He loved finding new places on you to touch and hold, loved kissing your stomach over where you were growing his daughter, loved holding your swollen breasts as he sank into your tight heat from behind, always cumming deep inside you because it’s not like he could make you any more pregnant. 

It took everything he had in him to not try to get you pregnant again. You’d told him, flat out, no. The pregnancy hadn’t been rough but it hadn’t been easy, either. You were tired but had a hard time sleeping, sensitive to all kinds of sights and smells, throwing up more days than you didn’t. It was easier, you said, than your first pregnancy, the one that was lost. But you were 20 years older now, everything was harder on your body now than it was then and the last thing he wanted to do was cause you any pain. 

But seeing you be a mother to his children had a tight hold on him. Every time he was inside you he had to fight the urge to plant himself deep, resist the drive to give you another child of his to grow and raise with him. Logic didn’t matter when he was inside of you, all that mattered was you and the primal need to give you as much of him as you would take. 

“Both of ‘em, huh?” He asked, coming over and pressing a deep kiss to your forehead and stroking your hair before sitting on the edge of the coffee table. 

“Yup,” you smiled a little. “Sylvie has not been on board with eating anything but she’s been crying half the day because she’s hungry. Ellie got home about an hour ago and didn’t say a word before stomping upstairs. So yes, your daughters have been in a mood today.” 

“Why are they my daughters when they’re actin’ up?” He asked, gently resting a hand on Sylvie’s back, feeling her little chest rise and fall with her sleepy breaths. 

“Because that’s when they take after you most,” you smirked a little. “When they’re angels who have never done a damn thing wrong, they’re mine.” 

He laughed once and went to scoop Sylvie off your chest and getting to his feet. You frowned. 

“I’ve got this little troublemaker since she’s apparently mine today,” he said, his youngest daughter stirring and scrunching her face as she yawned, her plump lips immediately falling into a pout. She buried her face into Joel’s neck with a little whine. “And I’ll go up and check on the other one. They need you at the clinic, appendicitis.”

“In that case, I leave you to be the outnumbered one,” you said, getting up and stretching out your back as you did. Joel took a second to admire you, the added thickness to your hips and legs and softness to your stomach and fullness to your breasts after carrying his daughter somehow making you even more lovely. Before, he didn’t think you could get anymore beautiful. Of course you’d find a way to prove him wrong. You reached up to kiss him, smiling against his lips before brushing Sylvie’s hair back. “Think you can behave yourself for your father since I’m sure he’s tired and hungry after a long day out patrolling?” 

She groaned and pushed her little face into his shoulder. He laughed. 

“Not like I haven’t dealt with moody girls before,” he said. His heart, he found, hurt less when he thought of Sarah now. The fact that she wasn’t there was still something that was missing. An emptiness and an ache of loss where he knew there should only be fullness and light. But he saw so much of her in Ellie and Sylvie and you. It made it so he could think about her, remember her, without it consuming him. He could miss her and remember her without suffering her loss. “I’ve got this Baby, go save a life.” 

You kissed his daughter’s chubby little hand and gave his arm a squeeze before leaving. He looked at Sylvie, her face still in his shoulder. 

“Alright Baby Girl,” he said. “We’re gonna try puttin’ you down for 10 minutes so I can talk to your sister, let’s see how that goes…” 

He carried her upstairs and set her gently in her crib. She stretched and yawned and pouted, her eyes closed - lashes so long they were splayed across her plump cheek - until Joel tucked a rag doll Ellie’d made her into her little grasp. She tugged it against herself and settled a bit and Joel all but tiptoed out of her room and down the hall to Ellie’s. He knocked gently on the door. 

“What.” Her voice was sharp. 

“It’s me,” he said. “Wonderin’ if you wanted to talk about somethin’.” 

“No.” 

He waited a second. 

“Can I come in?” He asked. 

“Your house.” 

He sighed. Why were teenagers so hard? He opened the door slowly and found her curled up on the bed, her eyes red and her arms crossed, her back to the mural. 

“What’s goin’ on, Baby Girl?” He asked gently, coming and sitting beside her on the bed. 

“I said I didn’t want to talk,” she snapped. “And I really don’t want to talk with you.” 

“Well, I’m who ya got,” he shrugged. “So I’d like it if you did. Want to help you if I can.” 

“You can’t help,” she glared at him. “You’ve done plenty.” 

“Wish you’d tell me what you mean,” he frowned. “I’m at a loss here, Baby Girl.” 

She sat up, crossing her legs and looking him in the eye. 

“There’d be a cure right now if it wasn’t for you, wouldn’t there.” She didn’t ask it, she said it. A statement of fact. Joel’s stomach dropped. 

“Where’d you get that idea?” He asked. 

“That’s not an answer, Joel. Would there be a cure if it wasn’t for you?” 

He sighed. 

“Let’s talk about this when your mother…” 

“No,” she shook her head. “No, she’s not my mom and you’re not my dad. You’re just some assholes who took away the one chance I had to make a fucking difference!” 

That hurt, more than he’d have thought it would. It’s not like Ellie called you Mom and him Dad but it felt like she thought of him the way he thought of her. You’d both tried to help her see how important she was, how much she mattered, what a difference she made to the people around her every day. It hadn’t seemed to stick.

“This about Lucas?” He asked softly. She glared at him but he took that for a yes. 

Her friend, Lucas, had been killed out on patrol a month earlier. Ripped apart by infected. It was tragic, the first loss on patrol in years. Lucas had been competent and likely kept the carnage from being worse, holding off a hoard long enough to get his patrol partners out alive.  Ellie had been distant and sullen a lot since then. 

You’d talked to Joel about it and the both of you figured she was mourning the loss of her friend. Neither of you thought it would be something like this. 

“Baby Girl,” he said gently. “Why don’t we talk about this when Doc gets home? You can ask us whatever you want, we’ll answer you. OK?” 

“Why, want to wait to get your stories straight?” She snapped. 

“Not gonna lie to you,” he said. “We’ll tell you whatever you want. But she needs to be here for it, too. Not right for it to just be you’n me, OK?” 

“Fine,” she snapped, curling up again. Sylvie started fussing in her room. He sighed and she just looked at him. “Go, I’m not allowed to talk to you until Doc’s here, anyway.” 

He fought the urge to fight her on it and went and picked up his youngest daughter, instead.

You’d been right about Sylvie. She wasn’t in the mood for eating anything but kept giving her hungry cry, wailing too much to actually form words, instead toddling around inconsolably. Eventually, he broke into a jar of canned peaches and handed her a sticky slice, the syrupy juice from the jar dripping down her hands. She chewed it, hiccuping, her tear-streaked little face calming. 

“You just wanted sugar,” he shook his head, smiling a little. “Should’ve known.” 

He found himself glancing at the clock every few minutes, waiting for time to pass, waiting for you to get home. For the first time, he was almost dreading it. Because the conversation with Ellie had the potential to ruin everything. He wouldn’t know how to fix it if she hated him for it. Wouldn’t know what to do if she decided to leave because of it. You’d tried to tell him that you had to explain it when it happened but he’d convinced you to do what he thought was the right thing to do. He’d convinced you to all but lie. 

If Ellie left because of it, would you leave, too? To stay with her? She would know it was Joel who wanted to hide it, she was anything but stupid. If she levied an ultimatum, would you leave him and take Sylvie with you? Would he deserve it if you did? 

All things considered, you weren’t gone long, home well before you’d either start cooking or head over to the mess hall for dinner. He met you at the door, Sylvie on his hip. 

“Hey,” you smiled, making your eyes go extra wide to get a little giggle out of your daughter. “She looks happier, I’m guessing you got her to eat something?” 

“Broke into some of the canned peaches,” he said as you put your arms around him and Sylvie, stretching up for a kiss. 

“Well if it works,” you said before you frowned. “What’s wrong? Something’s wrong…” 

“Ellie wants to talk,” he said, holding you a little closer. “About Salt Lake City.” 

You winced. 

“Shit,” you dropped your forehead to his chest and took a deep breath. “Well, we knew it was coming eventually. Think Tommy can take Sylvie for the night so we can hash this all out and make sure we’re focused on Ellie?” 

“Good plan,” he kissed the crown of your head and gave you a squeeze, some of his anxieties eased. You were here. Somehow, it was going to be OK. 

Tommy, thankfully, was fine to take Sylvie and didn’t ask many questions after he saw the look on Joel’s face. Instead, he took his niece inside to play with Jake, his son, and Joel came home to find you and Ellie on the couch. You’d made tea and Ellie was rapping her fingers against the side of her chipped mug. She narrowed her eyes at Joel when he came in, her small body tucked into the corner of the couch, her legs crossed in front of her. Joel sat in the arm chair near your end of the couch. He couldn’t settle back into it. Instead, he sat on the edge of it, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. 

“OK Baby Girl,” he sighed, looking at her. “What do you want to know.” 

“What happened?” She asked, staring him down. “With the Fireflies. What actually happened. You’ve never told me the truth about it but I need to know now. I can’t keep living with you fucking lying to me about it!” 

“OK,” you said gently. “It’s OK…” 

“No, it’s not OK,” she snapped. “And I’m tired of pretending like it is!” 

“They were gonna kill you, Baby Girl,” Joel said, struggling to speak past the lump in his throat, the tightness in his chest. 

“What?” Her eyes were a little wide. “No, Marlene said…” 

“Marlene lied,” you said, your voice sharper than Joel was used to hearing. “Their doctor was purposely vague with me because he knew I wouldn’t go along with his plan…” 

“What was the plan?” Ellie asked. “What did they need that would kill me?” 

“Your brain,” Joel said. It hurt him to even think about it, to think back to those horrific minutes where he wasn’t sure if he’d get to her in time, where he thought he might have lost her forever. “They needed the Cordyceps that have been in you since you were born and they grow inside your brain…” 

“You should have let them!” She cut him off, her eyes wide and teary. “Why would you stop them?” 

“Ellie…” he began but she smacked her mug down on the coffee table with a loud thud. 

“This was my one chance!” She looked between the two of you. “I could have actually done something! Been something, made a difference! My life would have mattered!” 

“Your life matters just the way it is,” you said, tears in your eyes. “Ellie, you and Sylvie are the most important things in the world to us, nothing could matter more than you…” 

“What about every other person in the fucking world?” She demanded. “What about…”

“The science was flawed,” you cut her off. “You were the only sample, to even test it would have killed you. Do you know how rarely something works right the first time in science? Basically never. Do you know how many combinations of things I had to try before my treatment worked in testing? Thousands, Ellie. They were going to kill you on the off chance he had it right and then when it didn’t work, what would be the point? That you got to die a noble death? That we lost you for nothing? 

“I had notes from the treatment I developed and he wanted to wait to try anything with it until after he took the cordyceps from you,” you pressed on. “He could have said stop. He could have decided to exhaust every other option first and he didn’t. He was convinced he was right and that’s not a good way to conduct science, I couldn’t trust him to do this right. The other option wasn’t for you to save the world Ellie, not really. Yes, maybe it would have gotten there eventually but it was so far from a certain thing.” 

“But…” she protested. 

“You’re not a parent,” Joel said gently. “But would you have let them kill me or her for that? Or Sylvie? Would you have let them kill your little sister for somethin’ like that?” 

Ellie just stared at her lap. 

“So what happened?” She asked, her voice thick. “You said the place was attacked but it wasn’t, was it?” 

Joel looked at you and you reached out your hand for him. He took it, holding onto you for dear life. 

“They weren’t goin’ to listen, Baby Girl,” he said. “I did what I had to do to keep you safe.” 

She nodded slowly. 

“And that’s how Doc got shot,” she stated it again. “They were trying to protect themselves from you.” 

“Yeah,” he said, your hand still tight in his own.

“How many people?” She asked quietly, looking up at the two of you. “How many people died there?” 

He clenched his jaw for a moment before he was able to meet her eyes. 

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I… I was so focused on gettin’ you out, I just did whatever I had to do.” 

“So you killed all those people,” she said. “Brought me here… and Doc, you just gave up? You never tried to do anything with all that shit you did? You just let people keep turning?” 

“Ellie…” you went to reach for her but she flinched back. 

“I can’t…” she shook her head. “I need to think… I’m going to stay with Dina for a bit.” 

She got up and Joel did, too. 

“Baby Girl,” he said but she shook her head. 

“Lucas might still be alive if she’d just done something,” Ellie shook her head. “But she didn’t. Neither one of you did. And it’s all fucking because of me.” 

She left and you were staring at the spot on the couch where she’d been. 

“Baby,” he said cautiously. He didn’t like the look on your face. “I’ll go after her…” 

“No,” you shook your head and wiped your eyes. “No, let her go. She deserves some space from me.” 

You got up and went for the stairs. 

“Baby…” 

“I’m going to shower,” you said. 

He watched you go, wishing he could find some way to fix it. 

*** 

Tuesday, May 11, 2027 

“Don’t like this,” Joel stood next to you, holding Sylvie, frowning. “It’s too dangerous…” 

“I’ll be fine,” you put your palm in the middle of his chest and kissed him. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.” 

He pulled you tight against him, his lips in your hair. 

“Mama,” Sylvie grabbed your braid. “Can I go on the horsie?” 

You smiled and brushed your daughter’s hair back. She looked so much like her father it made your heart ache. 

“Not this time, Baby Girl,” you smiled. “But soon. Promise.” 

“You ready?” Tommy rode up along side your horse. 

“As I’ll ever be,” you gave him a tight smile before kissing Sylvie one more time and giving Joel a longing look. “I’ll be back soon. I will.” 

“You’re not back by Labor Day I’ll come get you back,” he said, voice dark. “Make sure they fuckin’ know it.” 

He kissed your forehead and you mounted your horse, heading with Tommy outside Jackson. 

The day after Ellie left was your birthday and it was the worst it had been in years. You stayed in bed most of the day, Joel just holding you. 

“She’s right,” you said as the sun went down, your husband’s fingers tracing up and down your arm. “I should have done something with it, I’ve just been letting people die by not doing something with it…” 

Joel tried to talk you out of it but you were determined then. You pulled Tommy aside and talked him into tracking down old Firefly contacts he had, seeing if he could find Dr. Anderson. After making some carefully placed radio calls over a span of months - much to Maria’s chagrin - he found him, at a hospital in Boise. 

“You’re not goin’,” Joel paced your kitchen, his arms crossed. “I don’t give a shit if you can save everyone on the goddamn planet, you’re not goin’.” 

“Yes, I am,” you said, sitting at the table, voice calm. “I respect your opinion but you don’t get to make this decision for me.” 

“What if somethin’ happens to you?” He asked, stopping in front of you. “You’re talkin’ about meetin’ up with a bunch of fuckin’ terrorists who already damn near killed you…” 

“They need what’s in my head,” you said. “They won’t kill me.” 

He knelt in front of you, almost the exact place he’d been when he’d proposed years earlier, and took your face in his hands, holding you gently. 

“I can’t do this without you, Baby,” he said, his deep brown eyes soft and scared. “Don’t ask me to try’n live without you, I don’t want it…” 

“I can’t live with myself if I don’t try,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. “Please, Joel. I have to do this. I have to.” 

He made it obvious that he wasn’t a fan of the idea but he agreed to it, staying behind to take care of Sylvie and keep an eye on Ellie, who had started coming around again, more to see Joel than anything else. You hadn’t told her you were leaving or why. You didn’t want to get her hopes up in case something fell through or have her feel responsible for you choosing to go if something happened to you out there. But you left a note to her, Sylvie and Joel, just in case you didn’t make it home. Just to be safe. 

“Been a while since just you’n me got into trouble,” Tommy said as the gates closed behind you. “Should be fun.” 

“Whatever you say, Tommy the Commie,” you smirked. 

“Jesus,” he sighed. “Been how long and you’re still on that? Gotta get a new schtick, Kid.” 

You laughed. At least you got to go on this damned trip with one of your best friends.

The ride to Boise was uneventful and you made it in just five days. The Fireflies were about as happy to see you as you were to see them, holding the two of you at gunpoint as you rode up to the city. Tommy looked about as happy about it as Joel would be. 

“Dr. Miller,” Dr. Anderson said when you came to the hospital, giving you a stiff nod. “Can’t say I ever thought I’d see you again.” 

“Feeling’s mutual,” you said, standing up as straight as you could, jaw squared. “You tried to kill my daughter.” 

“And you kept me from saving the world for mine,” he said. “So I think we’re even.” 

The two of you struck up an uneasy working relationship, Tommy hovering like a body guard for the first week you were there but apparently trusting the Fireflies enough to not kill you for at least a few hours at a time. 

You’d brought some vials of Ellie’s blood with you, taken by one of the nurses at the clinic under the guise of running a few standard tests when she was sick with the flu weeks before. It took some time, but you were able to narrow down what you thought at least stopped the progression of cordyceps in her, even if it wouldn’t go as far as making someone immune. By late July, you’d developed an emergency injectable you thought would work to halt the progress of the cordyceps. Dr. Anderson distributed it to the Fireflies who were most likely to encounter infected. Then, it was a waiting game. 

It took three weeks to discover that it worked. A patrol was overwhelmed by infected and one man was bitten. They used the injectable at the bite and the spread stopped. He was rushed back to you and Dr. Anderson, where the two of you carefully extracted the cordyceps from his arm. 

“It’s not a cure,” you said after the man had been monitored for four days with no sign of infection. “But we can stop new infections.” 

“That’s a whole hell of a lot,” he nodded. “We can synthesize it, spread it. It’ll take a while but it’s a start. A start to getting our world back.” 

You were excited, of course. Thrilled that your idea had worked, that you’d been able to help begin to stop the suffering caused by infected. But mostly, you wanted to get home. You missed Joel, you missed Sylvie, you missed Ellie. You missed your life with them. You and Tommy left for Jackson the next day. 

The ride back to Jackson felt longer than the ride to Boise. Maybe it was because you were so ready to get home and because your husband and daughters felt so close but so far. By the time you got back, you all but jumped off your horse at the stables and ran home. 

“Joel?” You called as you pulled open the front door. You heard something clatter to the sink in the kitchen and he appeared in the doorway. 

“Baby,” he ran and grabbed you, clutching you close to him, almost knocking the air out of you. “Fuck, I’ve been so worried, I’ve missed you so much…” 

He sounded like he was on the verge of tears as he held you to him, kissing every part of you he could reach. 

“I missed you,” you held onto him, your fingers in his hair. “But we did it, Joel. We made something that can stop infection…” 

“I’m so proud of you,” he pulled back from you enough that he could kiss you. “But I care much more about you bein’ back than anything about infected…” 

You laughed at that. He went and got Sylvie from her seat in the kitchen, where she’d been coloring. 

“Mama!” She started squirming when she saw you, stretching and reaching. 

“Hi Baby Girl!” You took her from her father and tried to keep from crying. She was bigger now than you remembered, her hair longer. You held her to you and breathed her in, Joel pulling you both against him. 

“They didn’t have…” Ellie said, coming in the front door. You twisted to see her and you heard something clatter to the floor. “Mom!” 

She hurled herself at you, holding onto you tightly. 

“I’m so sorry,” she was crying. “I didn’t…” 

“No, Baby Girl,” you wrapped the arm not holding Sylvie around her and kissed her temple. “You were right, I should have done something with this so much sooner…” 

“I’m just so glad you’re back,” she said, burying her face in your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have said that shit, I’m so sorry…” 

“Just keep calling me Mom and you can say just about anything else you want,” you said, voice wet. She laughed. “I love you, Ellie. So much.”

“Love you, too.” 

October 5, 2029

The first time you heard a plane overhead, you instinctively ducked. The last time you’d heard that sound was the day of the outbreak, almost 25 years earlier, and a plane had almost come down on your head. 

You were walking home from the clinic and you ran the rest of the way to your house. 

“Joel!” You yelled the second you were in the door, but you didn’t have to go far to find him. He was sitting on the floor of your living room, playing with Sylvie. 

“Baby?” He frowned, a doll in his large hands as Sylvie held the bottle and sat on his lap. “What’s goin’ on, everything OK?” 

“There was a plane,” you said, breathless, eyes wide. “Overhead, outside. There’s a plane.” 

“A plane?” He raised his eyebrows. “You’re sure?” 

“Damn sure,” you said and then you laughed a little. “People are flying again. There was a fucking plane.” 

That was when you got your idea. It was probably a damned stupid idea but it was an idea. 

Maria and the rest of the council had been getting regular updates from the outside world since the drug had started being distributed. Things were changing, quickly. 

Now that traveling was safer, people started moving a bit more freely. Caravans started first, then train lines opened. It didn’t take long for FEDRA to fall and be replaced with a government more closely resembling the former United States. 

Now that there were planes running again, you imagined that meant things were stabilizing. And if things were stable - if people could travel across the country - maybe you could do the one thing you’d wanted to do since coming to Jackson: See if Andrew and Jess would join you. 

You missed them and Elizabeth and Jonah fiercely. They were still young enough that they could have a childhood here, that they could learn and grow and lead something close to a normal life here. 

Talking Maria and the council into it had been surprisingly simple. Jess’ psychology training would be a boon, adding more children to the community was welcome. And you got the impression that, after five years of treating the people here at the clinic, they wanted to do something for you. There was a train line that ran to Salt Lake City from Boston, and you radioed Andrew for the first time in almost five years. 

“Holy shit!” He said when Abe got him and put him on the line. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again, I have so much to tell you…” 

“I have a lot to tell you, too,” you said, trying not to cry at the sound of his voice. “But I wanted to ask… How attached are you and Jess to Boston? Feel like hopping on a train west and starting over? I promise, where I live? It’s worth it.” 

They came out a few months later and you were there, back in Salt Lake City with Joel and extra horses, meeting them. It was the second time you’d been reunited with someone you loved on your birthday. 

You recognized Elizabeth immediately as she jumped out of the carriage first, even though she was far taller now than she had been the last time you saw her. You had to stop yourself from crying. Jonah was next, then Jess, then Andrew. 

“Hey!” You started running for them. Andrew saw you then, dropping his pack and running for you, the two of you slamming into each other so hard you were sure Joel heard the thud. 

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he said as you clung to him. “Holy shit I missed you…” 

“I missed you, too,” you said, choked up. “So much has happened and I kept wanting to tell you fucking everything and I couldn’t and it sucked!” 

“Me too,” he laughed. “Me too.” 

It took you five days to make it back to Jackson, giving you plenty of time to catch up. Things got worse in Boston after you left. FEDRA’s grip tightened, life becoming more and more locked down. Andrew and Jess did everything they could for their children, trying to give them a normal life but there was only so much they could really do for them. They’d been looking for a place to go when you’d radioed. 

Andrew wasn’t shocked that you and Joel had ended up together. He was a little more surprised that you’d had a baby, though. 

“I’m so happy for you,” he said, looking a little teary. “You deserve it. You have for so long but I’m so glad you finally got what you wanted.” 

The house behind yours in Jackson was open and they moved in there. After giving them a few days to settle in, you invited them over for dinner and game night with the kids. There were so many people, your kitchen table had never seemed quite so small. You loved it. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you said, hugging Andrew goodbye as his family left for the short walk back home. 

“Me too,” he said. “The codependency squad is back in the same place and all is right with the world.” 

You laughed and the two of you watched as Lizzy twirled with Sylvie on your back deck, Ellie playing guitar perched on the steps, Jonah watching her, enraptured. Joel put his arm around your shoulders and you leaned your head against him as Jess slipped her hand into her husband’s. 

“See you around?” He asked. 

“Don’t think you’ve got another choice,” you smiled. 

Sylvie went down easy that night, worn out from playing with her newfound cousins. You could still hear the quiet chords as Ellie practiced guitar in her room.

“Night Ellie,” you called as you went to close your bedroom door. “Don’t stay up too late, guitar down soon.” 

“I’ll take it easy,” she called back. “Night Mom, night Dad.” 

“Can’t say I ever thought I’d be hosting a game night for anyone,” Joel said as you both climbed in bed and turned out the light. 

You laughed. 

“Me either,” you said. “Crazy what five years can do.” 

You snuggled up against him and he put his arm around you, kissing your cheek, working his way down to your jaw and then to your mouth. 

“What do you think you’re doing there, Mr. Miller?” You teased, your arm going around his waist. He was softer and thicker there now, but you liked it. A sign of the fact that he wasn’t struggling anymore, proof that he was still here to grow old with you, raise your daughters with you. 

“Gettin’ my hopes up, Mrs. Miller,” he said, voice low as his hand slipped below your tank top and found your breast, holding you gently, his thumb brushing your nipple. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to let you down,” you smiled against his mouth and he pressed you closer. 

You hooked a leg over his hip and ground your aching core against his already hard length. It didn’t seem to matter that you were 50 years old now, that you’d first slept with him almost 30 years before, that he was there in your bed every night, you always seemed to want him and he always seemed to want you. 

He slipped the straps of your tank top down and off, tugging the fabric to the top of your shorts before kissing down your throat to your bare chest. He kissed along the curve of you there, his lips and tongue and teeth brushing along the tender flesh until he sucked your nipple into his mouth and moaned around you, teasing you with his tongue. You groaned and instinctively rocked your hips against nothing, already desperate and needy for him. He moved to your other breast, giving in the same treatment as he held the first one in his large hand, gently rolling your peaked nipple between his thumb and finger.  

“Joel,” you breathed, arching your back into him. 

“Someone sounds needy,” he breathed, pressing his lips to your sternum and kissing down your stomach - still soft from when you’d carried Sylvie years before. Joel had never seemed to mind. 

“I am,” you groaned as he tugged down your shorts and panties, taking the tank top with them, leaving you naked before him. “Fuck, I need you…” 

“Can’t let you go unsatisfied now, can we?” He asked, spreading your legs and settling between them. He put your thighs over his shoulders and he teased his tongue along your seam, curling it around your already swollen clit. He hummed in approval. 

“Taste fuckin’ delicious,” he said, licking you again. “Can’t believe this pussy is all mine…” 

“All yours, Joel,” you groaned as he pressed his tongue into your aching entrance, making you gasp. 

He ate you gently at first, his lips and tongue working with his fingers as they softly toyed with your clit. But your husband knew your body well, maybe better than you, and the second he could feel you starting to tighten around him, he was harsher, more eager. His beard scratched against your sensitive skin as he pressed his tongue deep, his nose against your clit as he swallowed up your wetness, two of his fingers hooking inside of you so that they plunged deep as his tongue pulled back, one always replacing the other so you got the delicious friction and push and pull without ever feeling empty. 

“Joel,” you panted, your fingers winding in his hair, your hips rocking against his face. You felt the edges of his mouth pull up but he didn’t slow his pace, not even as you exploded around him, your grip on his hair tightening. He ate at you until your orgasm eased and you were left, pliant and gasping for breath, below him. 

“That’s my girl,” he said, crawling up your body and wiping your slick on the back of his hand before he settled himself between your thighs. His thick, heavy length brushed against your dripping sex and he kissed you, tasting like toothpaste and your own cum. You looped your arms around his neck as he pressed just the head of himself into you, the stretch at your entrance delicious enough to make your back arch into him. 

“I want you,” you breathed when he pulled back from your lips enough for you to speak. “Please…” 

“Past wanting you,” he said, sliding himself into you inch by devastating inch. “Past needing you, too. Don’t think there’s a word for how much I want and need you, Baby…” 

You whimpered below him as he sank into your body until he was fully within you, your channel feeling so full and stretched but so damn satisfied. 

“Belong inside of you,” he leaned down to kiss your throat. “Made to be inside you…” 

You wanted to say something back but could only moan as he started to move inside you, his thick cock dragging along your inner walls, his head catching on every ridge of you as he worked his length within you. 

He started out faster and harder, your nails digging into his back, the air getting knocked out of you in little gasps with every snap of his hips. Your second orgasm was building fast and, when you began to tighten around him, he pressed as deep as he could reach, slowing is pace so you could feel every exquisite movement. 

“You’re gettin’ close,” he panted, hips moving slow and steady, pressing yours down into the bed so firmly you wondered if you were going to have a bruise in the morning. You didn’t care. “Can feel it, you always get so goddamn tight right before, Baby, love feelin’ you like this…” 

“Can’t help it,” you were keening below him, doing everything you could to take him deep. “You feel too good, Joel I can’t…” 

“Cum for me,” his whole body was covering yours, every inch of him against or within you. “Need to feel you, Baby, need to feel this pussy - my pussy - cum on me…” 

“Fuck!” You gasped as your walls fluttered around you and he let out a strangled moan as he fucked you through your orgasm. 

“That’s it, Baby,” he sounded almost choked up, straining to hold off his own orgasm for another minute. “Doing so good for me, takin’ me so well, feelin’ so goddamn good…” 

Your orgasm faded and he all put ripped himself from your body before pressing his cock head against your clit and spilling his seed over you there, his warm cum making your oversensitive, wrung-out nub throb. 

“Fuck Baby,” he collapsed next to you for a moment before he reached into his bedside table and grabbed a clean washcloth, reaching between your legs to wipe away the combination of his spend and your slick. “How are you always that fuckin’ incredible?” 

“If you were made for me then I was made for you,” you said, still catching your breath as you rolled to wrap around him. He pulled your naked body tightly to his own and dropped the washcloth on his nightstand, next to the candle you’d made the year before. It was lavender scented, made with oils taken from the plants you’d grown in your back yard. They came from the buds you’d taken from Bill and Frank’s when you first headed west. You’d made several of the candles, liking the fact that the smell helped reduce stress and anxiety. You, Joel and Ellie had seen enough of that in your lives.

Your mind drifted as you lay in your husband’s arms. You drifted through the past 30 years of your lives, the pain of deep loss, the profound connection to the people you’d come to love, the life you’d built with Joel in Jackson. You thought of your daughters that were here with you and the daughters you lost - Sarah and your unborn child. You’d started picturing her as a girl, always a girl. Joel, you were certain, was built for raising incredible girls. He’d done it with Sarah and now he was doing it with Ellie and Sylvie, too. He’d have done that with the baby you lost, too. You could feel it. That feeling hurt less now with Joel beside you.

You thought of Joel playing guitar in your living room, next to the pictures of Sarah and Tess and a sketch you’d made of Ellie and Sylvie. You thought of the way he called you and Ellie and Sylvie “his girls” as though you were everything that mattered to him. You thought of the way that, even as he’d fought to push you away for so long, you kept finding each other again and again because there was something inside of you both that was always reaching for the other. You were made for him and he was made for you. Of that, you were certain. 

His lips found the top of your head, his hands splayed wide over your back as he held onto you. 

“Love you, Baby,” he whispered in the dark. “More than anything. Always have, always will.” 

“Always love you, Joel,” you whispered back. “Until the day I die.” 

You drifted off to sleep in his arms, in your home with the family you’d built with the man you were always meant to find. He was yours, you were his and you were happy.

A/N: I can't believe it's over! I sincerely hope you are happy with where Joel, Doc and Ellie wound up in Jackson. They're finally all at a point where they can do more than survive, they can thrive together, just like they were always meant to.

Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you times a million for reading this story. Your kindness, love and support have meant so much as I've written this piece. I don't think it's possible to thank you enough for that, so I'll just say it again: Thank you.

If you've ever liked a chapter, commented, reblogged, anything at all, please know that I appreciate you. Every notification I got on this fic made me smile. You helped make this journey an absolute joy.

I did start a new fic, called Yearling. It's another TLOU Joel fic and you can find it here.

I'm not great at goodbyes so I'll just say this: See you around. I hope you'll join me on another adventure one day. Until then, take care of yourselves, spread some kindness and share love when you can. I love you all!

Taglist: @paleidiot@ayamenimthiriel@ginger-swag-rapunzel@drewharrisonwriter@flugazi @pedropascalsbbg@taoyuji@starstruckmusiciansartghost@splendsay@bigboiseason123@jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10@sloanexx@ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn @hufflepuffriver @sarap-77 @storyarcscribe @mellymbee @jasminedragoon @lemonmeli @reds-ramblings@arizonadaydreamer@mumma-moonchild@blackroseguzzi@candypeaches16@kittenlittle24@wrappedinfiction@oatmeaiboy@pedritosdarling@winchestergypsy90@imnotdatboii @lalalalemonade11 @maknimuk1@mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes@pedrosaidsheispunk@commanderawkward@n7cje@elliesgirlll@tsunamistorm123@spookyxsam@leeeesahhh @anoverwhelmingdin @untamedheart81 @pedropascalfan221 @pedr0swh0r3 @pedrobae@fifia-writes@fatima-marisa @acf2023 @1soff@encephalitiskat @ashleymsnodgrass @karlinspace

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Rowan with a pregnant mate☺️

He’d just be so overprotective I’m living for it

Also I feel like the rest of the cadre would be so involved and protective as well bc that’s their baby niece/nephew!

Oh I liked this...

Dad to be

Let's get one thing straight - Rowan would be petrified and I doubt that would even cut it. I think the moment the word "I'm carrying your babe", would leave your mouth he would go pale. That male has seen some raw, brutal battles and walked out unfazed by it but those four words make him forget how to breathe for a moment.

Without a doubt, the first thing Rowan would picture would be Lyria's lifeless, brutalized body. That not that long ago was full of life and carried their unborn child as well. Now instead of her face it's you who lays their dead. And Rowan is pushed face-first into the same suffering that he thought had healed decades ago.

"Rowan", you would mutter all scared, thinking that this was indeed something that he never wanted. He had only mentioned Lyria scarcely to you and you had respected that but now you knew that this had opened the door Rowan never wanted to open again.

I think he wouldn't say anything. He would reach for you though. Pulling you closer to him so you could stand between his legs and he could rest his hand on your still mostly flat stomach. His heart aches that much more when he picks up on the baby's heartbeat.

That night Rowan would sleep with you tightly pressed against his chest while his hand resting on your stomach.

And when I tell you that overnight he would snap into a father role, I mean it. I doubt you would have a proper conversation straight away because he would need time to process but you would be woken up with two trays of food on the side of the bed, full of fresh vegetables and fruits of all sorts. And you best believe that you ain't getting out of bed until he sees you at least take a bite of half of the things in front of you.

When the morning sickness hits, he is by your side through it all. Never have you spent a moment bent over a toilet by yourself. Rowan is always there, cooler hands soothing the nausea. A gentle breeze of wind hits your damp forehead, as he mutters all sorts of praise for you.

There's no way in hiding the pregnancy as well. Gavriel would know before even you knew of it, old enough to sense it and feel it in the first days in my humble opinion. And Fenrys is too noisy so he would just splatter a question of why your sent had shifted.

They would be delighted. It's the first baby to enter the family so you best believe they are already fighting over who would be loved the most.

I also doubt that Rowan would be territorial around others. Sure, they might earn a snare if they got too close or smothered you too long but he would feel a sense of peace knowing that he has the best worries protecting you as well. Because he knows that they would rather die than let you get harmed, knowing that Fenrys pulled a sword at a caterpillar who fell onto the picnic blanket.

With your bump getting bigger Rowan would get more and more cuddly. You always were a rather affectionate couple but now there isn't a moment he isn't touching you in some way. Side hugs, hugs from the back, you on his lap, him reaching for your hand. He needs you close. Hearing both of your heartbeats is all that he needs.

And I think eventually, one night, with you both cuddled up together beneath the furs Rowan would finally admit how scared he is and how if something was to happen he would want to die himself this time around. There was no way he could go through losing the most important people in his life.

"But we are here. I want you to live in the moment. Experience this", you would mutter, pressing your hands onto his. He would nuzzle his face deeper into the crook of your neck, "I love you both but...", "No, buts, we are here and now, and we are well".

And Rowan let himself believe that for the first time. That he was going to get his happy ever after. Because a father. Watch his child grow beside you. And for the first time, he let himself smile, truly, from within his heart.

[neopuppy]

I've been having this reoccurring dream where I'm tied up and blindfolded and I'm getting the shit fucked outta me by johnny... but instead it's actually jaehyun fucking me roughly while johnny watches and does dirty talk so I think it's him.

(Shortening it to save you from my rambling) After fucking the life out of me in every position possible, johnny slowly removes the blindfold while asking "So? Did he fuck you good baby?" And as it sinks in, johnny then it turns into a competition/threesome and they take turns using me.

I also had this same dream but with hyuck and jeno recently and my god I hate how I'm single

keeping this short, but let your imagination run wild💙

warning: dubcon

Johnny’s everything you could ever want in a boyfriend. he’s better than the dream man you wrote out on paper as a child.

he takes care of you, gives you a comfortable life and fulfills your every need. he’s almost flawless, almost.

one problem- you hate his best friend Jaehyun.

“does he have to come?”

Johnny sighs, you’ve been repeating the same question ever since he mentioned that Jaehyun would be joining the two you of you for your weekend getaway.

“he just got dumped, give him a break alright?” your boyfriend looks stressed, chucking a pair of socks inside his overnight bag. “I just don’t understand your problem with him? all he does is praise you and constantly remind me how lucky I am to have you.”

“he just..” you don’t want to tell him the truth, but Jaehyun creeps you out.

you met him before Johnny, always hanging out at the same bar you would peruse during your single days; even then he made your skin crawl. while your friends giggled over his dimples, you would frown, having caught his eyes on you everytime you looked around.

Jaehyun never said much to you, sending drinks your way, he’d raise a glass to ‘cheers’ you from across the room. winking and smirking while taking a sip without once breaking his gaze.

the way he watched you reminded you of a predator studying its prey, counting the hours and days; quietly planning the perfect attack.

once Johnny took up space in your life, nights out with your friends became less and less. they’d make fun of you for getting ‘wife’d up’, but your boyfriend always made Jaehyun a priority, canceling plans with you on different occasions because his friend had a rough day and needed a night out with the boys.

“it’s only a couple of days, Jaehyun loves the lake. we always went there when we were younger.” Johnny pets your arms, pleading with soft eyes. “if you’re good, I’ll have a nice surprise for you.”

Jaehyun must know by now that he makes you feel uneasy. he still watches you with a glint in his eye that sets your spine into a shiver. he presses too close against you, laughs deeply while throwing his face into your shoulder to hide. uses any opportunity to graze your exposed skin, embraces you in hugs for much too long.

Johnny never seems to notice, your boyfriend never once has commented on his friends behavior. it’s hard to not believe you could just be making an issue out of nothing.

even now as you sit between the two of them watching a movie you agreed upon, Jaehyun offers to rub your shoulders because you keep shifting about.

“it’s okay..” you mutter, only moving so much to remove the contact of your bare thighs rubbing against his. Johnny spreads his legs open further making it impossible to get comfortable, stretching lazily like the couch belongs only to him, passing a yawn carelessly; too engulfed by the current movie to notice your discomfort.

“let him do it babe, Jae’s got good hands.”

Jaehyun says something too close to your nape, folding his legs to move closer to you. his palms smooth up your arms stopping at your shoulders with a firm squeeze.

“so tense..” he’s too close, breathing against your nape. digging his bony fingers into your shoulders, the flat planes of his stomach mold against your waist. everything feels firm, hard, setting your nerves off in a frenzy the more he works to relax your muscles.

“see, you two just needed more time to get to know each other better.” Johnny smiles half-lidded, watching his friend loosen up the knots in your neck.

he trusts Jaehyun, unfazed by the other man touching you. they share a knowing look between each other as your eyes fall shut drifting off to sleep, melting beneath Jaehyun’s touch after a long day of activities.

“J-Johnny..” you’re panting, arching up releasing a shocked moan. struggling to detach your wrists tied together above your head. the panic you woke up to settling when your boyfriends familiar husky voice whispers by your ear.

“taking it so good baby, tell me how much you love it.”

“Joh-johnny..wha—“ even with your eyes covered, you know your boyfriend's body too well. the hands on your waist feel thinner, colder, more calloused.

“I said,” Johnny bites your earlobe, clutching a tuft of your hair in a balled up fist. “tell me how much you love this dick.”

“love it!” panting, you arch up higher. wriggling with your wrists bound together to the headboard above you. thighs aching from the unrelenting pace he’s been fucking into you at. “l-love it so much!”

“love it enough to beg for it in your sleep?” Johnny sneers, yanking harder on your hair. he rips off the tie covering your eyes, gripping your chin to look up at the man above you.

“begging for another man to fuck you while sleeping next to me.” his tongue clicks. teary eyed, you try to shake your head ‘no’, unable to get away from Jaehyun’s hands roaming over your body.

“you could’ve just asked baby,” he moans above you, growing sloppier with his thrusts. Jaehyun bends closer, wrapping your thighs around his waist while Johnny keeps your lips pouted for his friend to brutally maul your mouth. stilling against you as he spurts out the first load of cum inside of you to start the night.

the screams you let out go muffled beneath Johnny’s large palm covering the lower half of your face, the two of them telling you to shut up and take it. man handling you around into a new position with Jaehyun’s cum dripping down your thighs.

it doesn’t end there, Jaehyun grips your arms behind your back, pushing you to bounce up and down your boyfriends length. spewing filthy words into your ear about how long he’s waited to fuck you, how long he had to wait for you to finally fuck up and admit how much you want him.

he cups your jaw to make you look at him while Johnny hammers his hips up, jerking your lower half against his as Jaehyun squeezes your cheeks together until you’re crying.

“say it. quit fucking pretending.”

“no! no!” you’re shoved back against him with each of Johnny’s powerful thrusts. tugged into his chest with defined arms wrapped around your waist.

Jaehyun smirks, he knows you won’t admit it, because that’s the point.

you like the chase too much, you like that he can’t win with you.

while Johnny takes care of you and plays the perfect boyfriend role, Jaehyun gives you what you really want, a struggle, a fight. the quiet things you’re too ashamed to even admit in the dark.

that’s why it works, they both know exactly what you need, when you need it, how you need it.

[milkfromcats]

Lmao I have thoughts on aki who had lived a normal life Like there were no devils and he married the reader and got a average job but one day he had to stay overnight due to his shityy boss and takes out the anger by going feral on the housewife reader! He had so much stamina and went multiple rounds while the readers poor body was overstimulated .He was surprised when the reader told him he was gonna be a father due to last nights activity! I am so sorry it is so long and filled with nasty thoughts but I just had to share it with someone !

Okay but like... this is giving hot bathroom sex to me. Hear me out:

TW: 🔞

Aki texts his wife he'll be getting home late. She frowns a bit down at her phone, sitting at their lonely little dinner table with the nicely prepared meal beginning to cool. She tries not to dwell, although it has been happening a bit more lately—him being held up at work. She packs up their dinner and stores it in the fridge.

She sits on the couch for a while, mindlessly scrolling her phone with a loss of appetite. She decides to take a shower.

She starts the shower and has her back turned from the door to check the water temp, clad in just a soft towel wrapped around her body.

Aki wraps his arms around her from behind, burying his nose in the sweet curve of her neck. "I'm sorry." He mumbles against her skin. He smells faintly of cigarette smoke and cologne.

She touches his arms that circle her middle, the sleeves of his button down are rolled up to his shoulders and his skin is warm. "Dinner's in the fridge—" She starts, but Aki is suddenly walking them back towards the bathroom counter.

He's planting hot kisses down her neck and shoulders while his hands move up and start to pull at her towel.

"Aki, wait, I haven't showered—" She tries, but one of his hands has snaked its way to her front, cupping her as one of his long fingers slips through her folds. "The waters still—" He pinches her clit, forcing a whimper to cut through her words.

"Don't care." He places a hand flat between her shoulders and applies pressure, bending her over the bathroom counter.

The towel slips in a pool around her ankles. The exposure nips at her, hardening her nipples against the counter's cool, hard surface. It's soon replaced by the growing steam from the shower and Aki's front pressed against her back, trapping her in a thick warmth.

He's pumping two fingers in her tightness when there's a tug at her hair, forcing her head back as her pussy leaks down his palm. "Can you take me?" He asks, the pad of his thumb working lazy circles over her swollen clit. He grinds his pelvis against the cleft of her ass.

She manages a nod and he pulls his fingers from her. He licks his fingers clean. She hears the clink of his belt and the opening of his zipper. "Ask for it." His voice is hoarse, almost impatient as the broad tip of his cock teases her weeping entrance.

The walls of her cunt clench emptiness and she glances over her shoulder, "Please."

His pace is brutal, his cock fully sheathed in one thrust. There's a mixture of pleasure and pain from the sudden intrusion. He grips her ass, spreading her to watch how well she takes him. Through the sounds of the shower's running water, she hears his quiet groan.

She feels the loss of his firm grip on her hips, only to gasp when his thumb returns to her sensitive clit with movements to match his thrusts. Her stomach tightens as her pussy begins to flutter around his cock. Her orgasm strikes through her hard, pulsing around the his veins deliciously. "So fucking good." His thrusts become slightly uneven as he nears his finish. He cums with a groan, filling her. She whimpers when he starts to pull free, but he stops midway to admire the way her creamy orgasm mixes with his cum and coats his cock.

More of his cum drips from her once he's pulled out completely, making a mess of her inner thighs. He's almost ready to have her again, to fill her once more.

Aki helps her to stand straight, her legs wobbly. He cups the side of her jaw to catch her mouth in a kiss. "Shower with me?" He asks against her lips. She agrees, yanking his tie playfully.

She'll mention she was ovulating later.

[jordynbreeloa777]

What are your thoughts on subliminals?🫶🏻

Hi anon! My thoughts on subliminals is that they are a great method to use! All though.. there is some opinions I have on it.

Subliminals only work if you think so, for e.g. if you think that one sub is more “powerful than the other” or that “this will give me fast results because the comments say so” then it will. It’s basically like placebo affirmation tapes. With that being said there only affirmation tapes. I think people raise the bar with this to put it on a pedestal as if the subliminal is giving you results. I do love listening to them, but i dont think you should have to “loop overnight, or listen “5x max” because it strictly depends on your beliefs. If you assume only one listen is enough to have a flat stomach and snatched waist then ofc you will. If you assume you have to listen to subliminals for 2 weeks to get results then ofc it will. There is no hate with subliminals to me, because I do love listening to them! I think it’s a cute way to affirm, and visualize at the same time! But the community has more of a perspective as in, “i will listen and update when I see results, or progress.” and that a sub maker is more “powerful then the other 🤓” some things the community just made up and ran with it, especially with the fading results, “evil results” things like that, and with “trusted sub makers” Overall, I do still love listening to them, it’s just not my main method to do now, but sometimes I listen once a day just for fun, and that the fact I manifested a lot using them since 2021, but as I got more into the law, and actually knowing about LOA instead of just affirmations tapes on YouTube, i found other methods I like and reside with more, they still will always hold a special place in my heart because that’s when i first truly learned about LOA, and how I stopped being a victim in my own reality 🥲🫶🏽

Happy Manifesting! Also all inboxes are being responded to!📥📨

[gallusrostromegalus]

So how eldritch can we expect your version of Hollows to be? Because if there's one thing I take joy from the various fandoms you stick your fingies into is the extremely enjoyable (cursed) way you describe the gods/monsters

I'm definitely looking forward to all these Bleach shenanigans~ :3

Have a Sample:

*

He doesn't sleep.

Kaname just lies there, fingertips tracing over his chest. It bothers him now that his skin is unblemished. There should be something, he feels. A ring of raised flesh, an abrasion, something?Surely this feeling in his chest means he's about to become one of them.

He presses his chest, trying to feel it out. His heart still beats, his lungs ache- Maybe it's in his Liver. You can live without half a liver, can't you? Or was it gallbladders? Retsu had told him, once, when-

He does not cry out. He swears he can feel the hole growing every time he thinks of someone who was ever kind, who ever trusted him, of Shuuhei and Saijin and home and anything more than surviving the next hour. He does not cry out, but he can't grit his teeth hard enough to hold the little whimper entirely in.

Unfortunately, it's enough to wake his companion.

Wonderweiss is a pure creature, and even under better circumstances, Kaname isn't entirely sure he could deny him anything. Under these circumstances, he's given to spoiling the creature. So the small Arrancar had been allowed to curl up beside him, sleeping with his back to Tousen and his face to the door. Saijin used to do the same, when they traveled together, at least in new villages.

Perhaps he couldn't deny himself the faint comfort of another warm body. Perhaps he feels like he deserves the way the memory cuts at him. Perhaps he hopes the memory will finally cut his chest open.

But Wonderweiss stirs at the noise, sitting up. He sleeps at a twisted angle, chest flat on the bed and hips nearly facing the ceiling. When he moves, Kaname feels Weiss' top half rise, but not the bottom, like his spine is little more than a polite suggestion.

"Ahm?" He asks, nudging Tousen.

"I'm fine." Kaname lies.

"Hmg." Weiss grunts, sitting up all the way and patting at him, humming with concern. Small soft hands on his face, arm, shoulder, stomach-

"Weiss?" He frowns. "Did you grow more hands?"

"Ah!" Weiss chirps.

"...Good Job?" he tries. He can feel the edges of his eyes burning with exhaustion, even when they're closed. More hands. Sure. Why not?

"-I wondered if I would learn what kind of a freak you were before you died." Gin drawled from the doorway. "Have to admit, didn't think you'd be into-"

Wonderweiss made a noise that roughly served the same function as a growl, but sounded like it had been turned inside-out, a low, wet thumping from the middle of the Hollow's chest. Weiss started to get up and Kaname felt the bed dip like the hollow had also tripled in size overnight.

"Fuck off, Gin." He groaned, sitting up and wrapping his arms around what he hoped was Weiss' abdomen. "Don't bother, he'll only give you a stomachache." He mumbled, tugging a bit against Weiss, who had previously been roughly the size and shape of a small child, but now seemed to be taking on the scale and proportions of a moose.

"I mean I shouldn't be surprised, you always did have a soft spot for animals-" Gin teased, and Weiss gave him another wet growl. "-Seriously, you feel safe enough to sleep with this thing?"

"If Grimmjow or Baraggan decides to do me in, that's one less warm body between you and The Old Man whenever push comes to shove." Tousen shrugged, tugging more insistently at Weiss, who seemed to sit back a bit. "The microsecond it takes him to blow through me might be your only chance to slither off like the coward you are."

Gin didn't immediately respond. "You know how lucky you are that you can't see that thing, right? He looks like a pipe organ made of ribcages."

Weiss trilled a short set of scales smugly.

"Is. Is it actually supposed to be doing that?" Gin asked, sounding almost genuinely concerned. "I thought it wasn't supposed to shapeshift until-

There was the faint sound of Gin's foot crossing the threshold into the room.

Wonderweiss' furious screaming probably woke every hollow in Hueco mundo, if not the lighter sleepers in the soul society. A high, almost metallic scraping noise, like a knife on a chalkboard, followed by a deep, resonant boom as something elaborate that Kaname absolutely did not remember including in Weiss' specs happened in the Hollow's thorax, and the wall opposite the door exploded.

Ah. The "wonder" in Wonderweiss. Must be short for "Wonder what the fuck that was". "Fuck!" Yelped Gin, and the Hollow launched off the bed, galloping after him through the echoing halls of the city.

Kaname sat on the edge of the bed, contemplating chasing after them. On one hand, he didn't want Weiss to come to any harm. On the other even the effort of sitting upright was making his arms shake and stomach churn. He realized he was rubbing his chest again, searching for the hole that had to be forming there.

Well, if he became a Hollow, perhaps he'd become a bastard-eating one like Weiss and devour Aizen. It'd serve him right after all this. There was some dark comfort in that thought and slowly, he rolled back onto the bed and tried lying still with his eyes closed again.

Kaname does not sleep.

He does manage to stop thinking for a while and is nearly startled when Weiss returns, humming cheerfully. He feels like he's returned to his regular size and number of limbs now, as he climbs awkwardly over where Kaname had rolled onto his stomach to rest.

"Kahnm?" Weiss tries, nuzzling at his shoulder.

"I'll be alright." he mumbles, reaching up to pat Weiss' head and this time, it almost feels like it might be the truth.

Satisfied, Weiss settles over Kaname this time, probably only two arms folded over his side and chest resting across Kaname's back, legs sprawled out to the side like a great cat as he resumes his vigil of the doorway. The weight is comforting, and more presicent in his mind than the sensations in his chest.

This time, Kaname sleeps.

[cirrus-ghoulette]

In Her You Trust

Words: 1,649

Characters: Cumulus, Sunshine, Swiss, Mountain

Pairings: Polyghouls

Main themes: Pregnant Cumulus, fluff, a little discomfort and a lot of comfort, terrible puns

Summary: When Cumulus can't sleep after a ritual due to her kits being active, Swiss steps in and finds a solution.

"Ooft. Mnn. Ah…" 

It was quiet on the bus. They'd finished their most recent ritual about two hours ago, and most of the ghouls were settling down for bed, wanting to sleep through the overnight drive to the next city. 

A few were still mulling about, dressed in pyjamas and loungewear and other ghouls' clothes. Sipping from bottles of half-flat beer, or mugs of lukewarm herbal tea. 

"Mmh." 

Cumulus was one of the ones still up. She didn't get much sleep nowadays, not when she was in her last trimester with a litter of Sunshine's kits. Who would've thought that Sunshine's kits would be hyperactive all the time? 

In fairness, the kits hadn't been planned, and Cumulus should've sensed that something like this was going to come when they found out about the kits and Sunshine had reacted by getting the zoomies.

Quietly, Swiss shuffled over to the alcove of sofas that Cumulus was reclined in. "Hey, gorgeous. You feeling alright?" 

"Yes, it's just…" Cumulus winced, rubbing her side. "They always get excitable after a ritual. I want to sleep, but I can't rest when they're…" The lump of a foot poked out against the skin of her belly, followed by the lash of a tiny tail. "When they're doing that." 

Swiss bit back the urge to say that that movement was not normal, and that it looked like something out of Alien. "Uh." He cleared his throat, then plopped down beside her, making sure all of the pillows were still tucked around her body in the way she liked. "Yeah, that's…" He grimaced, looking for the right word. 

"Mm." Cumulus nodded, knowing exactly what he was thinking. She reached out to him and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll come to bed soon, sweetheart. I promise." 

"I'll stay up with you 'till you do." 

"Oh, Swiss." The ghoulette smiled tiredly. She moved her hand up to cup his cheek, her thumb rubbing over the sharp cheekbone. "You are such a softie." 

"Yeah, well…" Swiss shrugged, embarrassed. "Well…" 

At that moment, Mountain padded towards the sofas and joined the two. The ghoul seemed to never sleep, though he did have a consistently sleepy way about him in the way he moved and spoke, no matter how much rest he got. "Here." He held out a heat pad. "I saw you getting Cirrus to rub your back during the ritual. Noticed you've been more sore than normal over the past few days." 

"Oh, Mounty." Cumulus tutted. As she leaned forward, Swiss activated the heat pad and stuck it to her lower back, to where the tension was visible. "You're all so nice to me." She mumbled, leaning back onto the pillows. Swiss' arm wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her close as Mountain kneeled down and sat by her legs. 

The earth ghoul sighed happily, resting his temple on Cumulus' knee. As she reached down and started to scratch at his scalp with her talons, a purr rumbled deep in his chest. "How are the kits?" 

"Active." Cumulus huffed softly, twisting a lock of Mountain's hair around her finger. "Very active. They slept through the ritual, and now they're awake, and… Very wriggly." 

"Yup." Swiss agreed, poking at an elbow that jabbed against Cumulus' skin. "They've got the zoomies in there." 

"Definitely Sunny's kits, then." Mountain chuckled. 

"Could be yours. I've seen your zoomies whenever we stop off in the nature reserves." Swiss shrugged, his cheek rested on Cumulus' shoulder. 

"Mm…" Cumulus nodded, then tilted her head back as her belly seemed to squirm from all of the kits moving independently. "They're running out of room in there. I think they're getting a little ansty." 

"Yeah, looks like it." Swiss rested his hand over the middle of Cumulus' stomach, then rubbed in slow circles there. "Sunny!" He called softly, spotting the ghoulette in the kitchenette. Two bright orange eyes stared back at him from the darkness. "You gonna come help your prime mover, or what?" 

"My prime mover?" Sunshine scoffed, walking out of the darkness with an iced coffee in hand. "I don't think the ministry would like to hear that a ghoul has a prime mover." She leaned down, pecked a kiss to Cumulus' lips, then sat on her other side. "Hiya, baby." 

"Hello, Shiny." Cumulus whispered, then kissed Sunshine again, chasing the taste of coffee on her lips. Copia had banned her from coffee once he'd found out about the kits and tea just didn't scratch the same itch. "Your kits are being absolute terrors." 

"What? My kits? Terrors?" Sunshine giggled, then took a long sip of her drink. The drink in question was ten pumps of syrup, half a cup of milk, one shot of blonde roast, and a load of ice. "Never. My kits are perfect little angels- demons. You know what I mean." 

"Not tonight, apparently." Mountain said into Cumulus' thigh. "I don't want to go to bed until you're ready, Lus." 

"Mm, Swiss is doing the- nnh- same. Oof. Foot- in my lungs. Belial, that's…" She wheezed. "Ow." 

"Okay, yeah, maybe my kits are being a little naughty, but they're good as gold apart from that. Promise." Sunny placed her coffee up on the sill behind them, where she'd inevitably forget it, and helped carefully guide the kit away from Cumulus' diaphragm with a few well-placed touches. 

"Want me to get them to sleep, Lus? I've, uh. Had this tactic brewing for a while and I think it's finally time to test it." Swiss said. Immediately, Sunny frowned, her arms coming to protect Cumulus' belly.

"Uh-uh. You're not testing anything on my mate or my kits." She growled warningly, her lip twitching to show one chipped fang. 

"No- listen, it's harmless. Just a bit of singing." Swiss placated, his hands up defensively. Sunny gave him a sceptical look, but her hackles did lower. Cumulus just looked confused. "Right. So, the kits like the rituals, yeah? You said they sleep right through them, Lus?" 

"They do. I think it's the music, or me rocking with the pedals. Something clearly soothes them when we're out there." 

"Well, I'm gonna go on the assumption it's the music. Kits like music. Especially kits who are borne into a band of ghouls." Swiss sat up straight. "Mountain? I need you to start drumming on her stomach. Just with your hands, just gentle. Pat it." 

"Swiss…" Cumulus sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Please, baby. Now is not the time. I'm exhausted. They'll settle in a minute and this… Drumming will just rile them up again." 

"Just trust me." Swiss said, his face one of pure seriousness. "Mountain, gimme a beat." 

"Gonna tell me a time signature?" Mountain offered. He moved up onto his knees, kneeling directly in front of the expanse of Cumulus' belly. She raised an eyebrow down at him, clearly not impressed. 

"Uh… 4/4, and give me something that's galloping." As Mountain started lightly patting a rhythm against Cumulus' skin, Swiss nodded in approval. "Perfect. Just like that. Right." He shifted on the sofa until he was lying face to face with the bump. "Hi." 

"Swisstopher, please." Cumulus groaned. "I'm going to go lie down." 

"No, wait!" Swiss held her down by the thigh before she could move. Mountain was still drumming. "Just let me try this." He pleaded. The ghoulette sighed loudly in response, but didn't move. "Thank you. You ready?" 

"I'm ready to go and lie down with my mate." She muttered, leaning into Sunshine's side. In response, Sunny kissed her temple, very enraptured in what Swiss was doing. "But yes. I'm ready." 

"Cool." Swiss cleared his throat. He checked down the hallway and made sure there was no one watching, then rested his hand on the bump, beside Mountain's two hands. "Lusssssss!" He snarled. 

"What the fuck." Sunny breathed, then cackled. "What the hell are you doing?!" 

"Shut up, you're gonna throw me off rhythm." Swiss groaned, then mouthed 'one, two, three' as he counted himself in, before continuing. "In Her you truuuusttttt…" 

Mountain grinned as soon as he realised what Swiss was singing. He changed the rhythm of his pats to something more suitable. Above him, Cumulus had covered her face in embarrassment and was groaning quietly. 

"My Mummy Lus." Swiss growled, then punctuated it with a kiss to her side. "Toooouchhhhh…" Another kiss. "My Mummy Lus." 

"Shit, Cir is sleeping…" Sunshine hissed, but she was quick to think on her toes, and started to tap out the rhythm of the keytar's solo with her fingertips on the crest of the bump. By the time the solo had ended, all four of the ghouls were trying not to laugh. 

"Keep going." Cumulus finally giggled. The kits had slowed their kicks. 

"Didn't think I'd get this far. Gonna have to sing the boring lyrics. Didn't come up with anything specific for you." Swiss said, before snarling out the next verse. Once he hit the chorus, both Sunshine and Mountain joined in. 

"Lussssssss!" They hissed out, and Swiss couldn't help but punctuate it with a thrust against the sofa. "Touch… My Mummy Lussssss… Cuddle… My Mummy Lus!" 

The four collapsed into laughter. Cumulus only stopped when she suddenly realised that the kits had stilled. "Satan preserve us. I think it might have worked." 

"Told you!" Swiss grinned up at Cumulus, then lowered his voice, not wanting to wake the kits. "Told you it would work. Told you they really liked our music."

"I'm glad to know that our kits are growing up with a good taste in music." Mountain said, sitting back so that he could look up at the three on the sofa. 

"It's a relief." Sunny sighed, then stood and held her hands out for Cumulus. "C'mon, Mummy Lus. Let's get you to our bunk. I'll even sing you some of Prime Mover if they wake up again." 

[stratossphere]

backstage | v.v

you’re waiting for ville in his dressing room when he gets done with his show.

warnings: a tiny bit of arguing in the beginning, smut, oral (f. receiving), slight spanking, unprotected sex, ville’s a little dominant, mentions of drug use at the end

word count: 4.7k

— —

"Sleep on the fucking couch. I don't care." That was the last thing Ville said to you before he went to meet everyone else on stage. You had flown all the way back from LA to Finland after missing only two days of his tour, and Ville was pissed because you had admitted that you were too exhausted to stand in the crowd to watch the band play tonight. After a 10 hour overnight flight and a 9 hour time reset right in the middle. Not to mention the 6 hour layover in between.

You didn't argue, because you really were exhausted and sleeping on the couch in his dressing room sounded pretty enticing, and Linde had been nice enough to bring in a blanket and pillow that had been on the tour bus for you. So, while Ville was outside with the rest of the band probably pouting his ass off, you were inside taking one of the best naps of your life.

Sure, you were probably going to be woken up when the concert was over just in time to get in an argument once Ville got back, but oh well. You were too tired to care.

—

When you woke up, it was because you were disturbed by the sound of hacking coughing. You cracked an eye open, because there was a chance it could've been one of the stagehands that had been coming out of the back room on and off, only to see your boyfriend standing with his back turned to you and a cloud of smoke wavering above his head as his coughing dissolved into continuous clearing his throat.

"Fuckin' stagehands." He grumbled, seeming to have realized that the copious amounts of half finished booze bottles and cans that he had been collecting on the vanity on the center wall of the small dressing room throughout the day had been cleared away.

He then turned, as if he was about to go back out and retrieve a new one, only to pause when he realized that your eyes were open. With a cigarette still between his lips, he raised an eyebrow with a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"Morning." He said simply. It was almost 11:30 at night, but you stretched and smiled regardless, pulling the blanket further over yourself. It was already cold outside, but air conditioning had kept the dressing room ice cold at Ville's request. Europeans.

"Morning." You mumbled in response, turning on your side where you had been lying on your stomach so that you could face him fully.

"How'd you sleep, my love?" And with that, he was forgiven for his earlier transgressions before the show. You watched as he began to towel off the sweat that had built up on his face and bare torso from running around on stage for so long before shrugging.

"Good enough. Didn't hear the stage crew come through at all." You sat up on the couch then, finally accepting that you had to get up due to the fact that he was going to want to go home before raking your fingers through your hair. He scoffed at the mention of the stage crew.

"Did you see that they cleaned out all my fucking drinks? I told them not to." He protested as he finished drying off and slipped his Black Sabbath shirt that he'd shown up in. You rolled your eyes.

"It's good for you. Those have probably been sitting out all day." You had no idea how room-temperature whiskey and flat beer could appeal to Ville in any way shape or form, but it was becoming an increasingly bad habit. Especially when he was drinking things that had been left unattended all day in the presence of others. It's a good thing he was nice to all the people that worked around the band, or else he was presenting a class A chance to drug him right up.

"Whatever." There was still a deep pout on his face. Your face softened as you held out a hand for him.

"You know, I barely even got a chance to say hi to you when I got here. You were already pissed off." You pointed out, noticing his clear hesitation to penetrate the space between the both of you. "I talked to Linde more than I talked to you."

"Hi." He said with a hint of a smile as he took your hand, letting you pull him further towards you until he was standing right in front of you. He sighed softly with apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't sleep last night."

"Neither did I." You spoke quietly as he moved to kneel on the edge of the couch between your legs, not letting go of his hand as you kept your eyes trained up at him. "I missed you."

"Yeah? How much?" Now there was a full smile on his face, and you could tell that you had won him over out of his bad mood. He was usually close to exhausted once he got done with a show, but there was a look in his eyes that told you he wasn't ready to leave quite yet.

"Come here." You motioned next to you on the couch, and he quickly obliged your request, moving to the side so that he could slide down next to you and put his arm over your hip so that you were right up against each other. You were praying that no one came to check on you, because you knew that there was no lock on the dressing room door. After he took his cigarette out from between his lips you pulled him into a kiss, wrapping one arm around his neck as you inhaled his slightly-sweaty scent. He always smelled (and looked) so fucking good after shows.

"Everyone else is upstairs drinking backstage. I told everyone I was coming to check on you." Ville mumbled against your lips as his hand slipped underneath the material of your shirt, cold fingertips shocking your skin as he continued to kiss you sloppily. "We've got time."

You responded with a hum as you deepened the kiss, your fingers hooking in the collar of his shirt at the same time he began to undo the buckle of your studded belt. The kiss wasn't desperate, but it was hungry, and you could taste beer on his breath as his tongue licked into your mouth. He was half-reaching back, and you opened your eyes just long enough to see that he was putting his cigarette out on the metal railing that was bolted into the wall above the couch before his hand was in your hair instead.

With arousal starting to take over, you helped him get your belt the rest of the way open, then lifted your hips as he pulled your black jeans down your hips, his lips finally breaking from yours as he started to move. Once you had your jeans completely kicked off in a pile to the side, he slid down to his knees between your legs on the floor, his hands skating down your thighs as he did so.

"Are you still mad at me?" He asked softly as he pressed a kiss to your knee, ending it with just a little bit of teeth as those sloppily eyeliner and eye shadow-lined eyes held your gaze with searing intent. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself enough to answer.

"Don't know. Maybe a little bit." You knew how he liked to apologize for things, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t doing your best to increase your chances of getting exactly that by as much as you could manage. He let out a hint of a scoff as his hands slid back up your legs to hook his fingers in the waistband of the thong you were wearing (god forgive you if you wanted to rile him up into fucking you sometimes, alright?) before beginning to pull it down your legs.

"You wear this for me, then?" He looked pleased with himself as he held your underwear up hooked around his finger, and you rolled your eyes as you watched him tuck them right into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Yes. And I hate when you do that." You complained, motioning to where he'd just basically stolen the only underwear you had on you. You knew he liked wearing jeans while commando, but you absolutely did not share the same preference. He shushed you and then began to guide your leg over his shoulder, kissing at your knee and thigh the whole time as he clearly attempted to pull your attention away from his actions.

"You smell so good." He mumbled against your skin, moving his face closer to your pussy but not yet closing the distance completely. You could feel yourself getting worked up; breath catching in your throat and heart racing as you watched him so easily toy with you. You knew he was lying, because you’d been sleeping on a probably-disgusting dressing room couch for over two hours, and had before that been in an airport for almost 18, but it was nearly impossible to get him out of his own head when he was...being himself.

He could tell you were getting impatient, and he pressed his lips to your very inner thigh so softly it was almost unnoticeable before he was moving his mouth to lick an open-mouthed kiss to your clit. You moaned at the feeling, your leg tightening over his shoulder as you watched him basically make out with your pussy. If you were going to make a sex tape, this would definitely be the starring event.

"I think I'm starting to forgive you." You breathed out as one of your hands moved down into his hair, pulling gently as his lips lingered enough to suck at your clit with every lazy kiss. He hummed out a laugh against your pussy, the vibration of his baritone voice only adding to the feeling as you fought the urge to slam your eyes shut. You wanted so badly to push your head back with your eyes closed and let your mouth fall open, but you wanted to continue watching the sight in front of you more. The previous quiet of the dressing room that you had been savoring while you’d been asleep was now filled with wet sucking sounds and your uneven gasps of breath, and you silently wondered if you had enough strength to keep yourself together for longer than the next minute or so.

"Yeah? Just because you're getting your pussy eaten?" Ville paused only momentarily to speak before he was back to licking long stripes from your entrance back up to your clit, circling the tip of his tongue before he continued to push it back down once more as he pulled moan after moan out of you. "I wasn't aware you were such an easy fix, sweetheart."

"Ville. Please." You didn't really know what you were begging for, but by this point you were grinding yourself against his tongue, fingers threaded tightly in his hair as you felt your head start to swim with pleasure. It wasn't false when people assumed that Ville's tongue was good for more than all the singing he did. His hands pushed at your inner thighs to hold your legs open as your muscles started to tense on him, and suddenly you felt his tongue slow down considerably. That fucker was teasing you on purpose.

When you let out a sound of disdain he let out a mocking coo, never stopping the movements of his tongue as he continued to slow down until he was barely kissing at your clit, eyes locked up on yours with a teasing glint as he sucked gently with every kiss. Sometimes it really fucking blew that Ville had no care for time management when it came to sex, and was perfectly content with being in this position for the next hour despite his band members that were currently waiting on the both of you.

Hopefully they were playing chess for the time being.

"More." You pleaded with him, fingers tightening even more in his hair as you arched your back more and more by the second. He was barely touching you at all, but you were still moaning. "It hurts."

"Shut up and be patient." He smacked your ass hard where one of his hands was resting against it, and you just moaned again. God, he knew how to fuck with you in just the right way to where you always managed to lose your dignity in the process.

Despite his harsh words, you felt his tongue begin to find purchase again, and although he didn't go any faster, he began to lick long, slow stripes from your entrance up to my clit again. Your voice went up a pitch despite your attempt to bite back, and you bit harshly on your lip as the hand that wasn't in his hair gripped helplessly at the worn-in fabric of the couch.

"Ville. Fuck, just like that." You whimpered as he then began to pick up the pace of his tongue, his lips eventually wrapping back around your clit as he began to suck harshly paired with his quickly swirling tongue.

If anyone was anywhere near your dressing room, you were going to have a really embarrassing walk of shame when you and Ville finished what you were doing.

He continued to pull gasps and moans from your lips with every quick movement of his tongue, his hands back at your hips so that you couldn't grind yourself against his mouth any more than he felt like allowing. At this point your legs were starting to shake, and your voice was starting to go hoarse in your throat as you pulled on his hair with every lick and suck.

"I'm gonna cum." You groaned, already starting to feel the ache of overstimulation setting in even beforehand as he ate you out like it was the last time he was ever going to get to. He hummed in encouragement as he again started to make out with your clit, those wet sucking and licking sounds getting louder once again as he coaxed you closer to your climax.

When you came, your back arched as you pulled on his hair harshly due to the intense wave of pleasure that pushed through you, and you moaned loudly as his grip on you loosened enough to where you could move freely. He continued to suck on your clit until your voice was dead and shaky in your throat and you were pushing him away, that cocky glint still in his eyes as he finally broke away to sit back and watch the way you came down from your high.

"You know, you should be more considerate to our neighbors." He teased as he pressed a (very) wet kiss to your leg where it was still over his shoulder and then sitting back on his heels as he slowly slid it off. "Screaming your fuckin' lungs out, for Christ's sake."

You shot him a dirty look as you stretched out your leg that you’d been holding bent up, leaning forward and smoothing his hair down where it was sticking up everywhere because of your hands.

"You know, we wouldn't always join everything late if you didn't insist on always taking forever." You mocked his tone of voice as he got up off of his knees, laughing when he climbed right on top of you on the couch and basically sat in your lap in the process.

"I like to take my time. Savor the flavor." He grinned like an idiot as those words came out like silver on his tongue, about the same time that you made a disgusted face once you heard them. He could say things like that, but he didn't like the word 'cuddle'. Figures. "You ready to go, or do you want to fuck?"

He was trying to play it off as if he was only going to fuck you if you wanted him to, but you could clearly see how hard he was in the decorative jeans he had been wearing on stage. It was a little bit of an ego boost, considering all he'd been doing was eating you out. You shot him a coy smile, wrapping your legs loosely around his waist and sliding one hand under his shirt.

"I mean, if you really want to." You teased, sensing his eye roll before it even made it to his eyes. He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, fingers wrapping around your wrist so that he could pull your hand out from under his shirt.

"You're fucking ridiculous. Desperate for cock and then you get here and act like you don't even want it anymore." He scoffed, snapping his fingers for you to lie back on the couch. Despite his words you grinned happily as you fulfilled his request, lying back against the arm of the couch with your legs already spread for him.

"What? I do!" You protested, pulling him in towards you with my feet hooked around his back so that he was forced to lean forward. "Please. I haven't been fucked in three whole days."

"Yeah, I should fucking hope so." He scoffed, undoing his black studded belt and then unzipping his jeans. "Three days and you're this eager?"

"It's because I love you." You pouted, watching with hungry eyes as he got his jeans down enough to free his hard and leaking cock. God, you wanted him so fucking bad. "Can you be nice to me while we do it?"

"Why do you have to ask like that? You make me sound like I'm spitting in your face after I've just slapped you." Ville's eyes softened at your words, and he ran his hands up your legs while squeezing softly. "Of course I'll be fucking nice to you."

"I just meant that I missed you, and I wanna touch you." You explained, feeling your face heat up slightly at the way he was looking at you. He had a habit of leaning back off of you so that he could fuck you harder, and as good as that felt, you would’ve rathered to have him in your arms by far.

"Touch me whenever and wherever you like, my love." He reassured, holding onto your knee as his other hand moved to position his cock before he was slowly pushing into you. As you let out a soft moan, his hand moved from your knee to push under you, pulling you forward at the same time he leaned down until your chests were pressed together and he was thrusting into you slowly with his eyes on yours. "Can feel your pussy squeezing me already. Are you that desperate?"

"Yes. Baby, please. More." You begged desperately, wrapping an arm around his neck while the other stayed with your hand on his bicep as he thrusted his cock into you with full, drawn-out pushes of his hips. He cooed at you against your cheek where his lips were brushing, nipping at your skin just barely.

"Oh, my poor girl. I know." His words came in response to the moans that he was pulling out of you with every brush of his cock against your sweet spot inside of you. He then connected your lips, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip as he groaned into your mouth.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist as you laced your fingers into his hair to hold his head with yours, starting to roll your hips along with his thrusts in an attempt to chase your own high in spite of the pace that he had so clearly set for the both of you.

"Stop it. You're gonna make me fucking cum if you keep doing that." Ville groaned at the feeling, holding you tighter where his arm was wrapped underneath your hips so that you were forced to be still. You whined against his mouth, your fingers brushing his where they were digging into your hip.

"Please." You said breathlessly, pulling on his hair just slightly when he snapped his hips harshly into you. He could tell you were getting close, and you in no way cared that you’d only been going for a few minutes. "Cum inside me."

"Jesus fucking Christ." He sighed in pleasure, and you felt him twitch inside you at your words. Mission accomplished. His kisses resumed once more, lips moving from yours over your cheek and down across your jaw as he continued to fuck you, getting sloppier and sloppier with each thrust as you moaned against each other. Ville's hand gripped your hip almost hard enough to hurt, and you couldn't help but feel coyly satisfied with the feeling. Sometimes he left bruises, and you had a feeling this was going to be one of those times. "Fuck. You sure you want me cumming in you?"

Sometimes you wondered if he even paid attention to anything you said due to the actual feeling of fucking you.

"Yes. Please." You begged, whimpering with his cheek against yours as he kissed and sucked at every sensitive spot on your skin. You were going to have to have a very serious conversation about carrying condoms on the both of you so that you’d stop doing things like this, but in the heat of the moment all you could focus on was the drag of his cock inside you over and over again.

"Ah. Ah! Right there..." Ville fucked into you deeply a few more times before he was letting out a long moan, his voice tapering off into a whine that made your whole body thrum in arousal as his release spilled inside of you when he came.

He continued to fuck you through his orgasm, and then you were cumming too, your climax pushing through you strongly as your back arched up towards him while you moaned repeatedly to the pace of his thrusts.

Eventually both of you couldn't take it anymore, and then Ville's hips slowed to a stop, the absence of skin-on-skin leaving room for the sound of your ragged breathing to fill the air.

"I wish I could take a picture of the way you look when you cum." He mumbled, kissing you softly and then lingering against your lips as he looked at you. You felt yourself go a little bit red at that considering how intensely he was looking at you, but it didn't stop you from running your hands through his hair and giving him another kiss.

"We are so late." Hopefully everyone else was already drunk enough to where they wouldn't point it out. You weren’t sure you were in the mood for teasing about your sex life. Especially not when it was from Ville’s best friends.

"Good. Unless you want to sit through ten chess matches, we're right on time." Ville scoffed, finally sliding out of you and then pulling back to look down while chuckling as he did so. "Fuck, we made a mess."

"Just put it back in and make out with me and then we don't have to worry about it." You whined at the loss of his touch, your hand falling to rest above his where it was resting loosely on your leg. You watched him bite his lip as he took a deep breath.

"Don't say shit like that. You're going to get me hard again." Despite your request, he got up and off of the couch, gesturing for you to wait while he fumbled his jeans back up and zipped before starting to rifle through the small care package that was sitting on the vanity that took up the opposite wall. When you let out a disgruntled huff, he glanced back towards you. "Just be patient."

"Do we have to go for drinks? We can't just go home?" You knew that going home meant cigarettes, CD's, and definitely more sex, and at that moment that was all you wanted. For once, you just wanted domestic cuddling on the couch where you could listen to Ville talk until the late hours of the night instead of hard partying and a painfully long slew of bad decisions to ruin your day in the morning. He came back around with one of those fancy hand towels given to celebrities too good for using paper towels in bathrooms, letting out a soft sigh as he sat down on the couch next to you to begin cleaning you up with it.

"I promised, love." He reminded you gently as he used the fancy celebrity hand towel to clean his cum out of you and off of your thighs and the material of the (slightly ruined) couch. You would've grinned at the irony of that had you not been so busy pouting. When he caught a look at your face, you saw a look of exasperated irritation pass over his features as his free hand gently held your legs open. "Don't make that face."

"I'm not making a face."

"You are." As he tossed the towel in with the trash (which you thought was kind of a waste, but also who wanted to clean up jizz rags anyway), you sat up and he reached out to swipe his thumb across your lips, an unimpressed look in his eyes. "What do you want?"

"You." You were whining, and you knew it, but he was used to it. In fact, Ville was probably one of the only people that ever indulged your whining. It was, if you did say so yourself, his weakness. He ran a hand over your hair, quirking an eyebrow.

"You have me." He reassured, leaning forward to kiss your forehead as he cupped the back of your head. "An hour. Give me an hour with them, and then I'll take you home."

"Yeah. Okay." You agreed tiredly, suddenly feeling the energy exertion of what you’d just been doing paired with your long flight and sleepless night starting to hit you. You were feeling more and more boneless by the second.

"I missed you." He concluded, leaning down to kiss you and then lingering just enough to where you lingered back before he pulled away at that exact moment. "And you've earned full rights to me tomorrow night because I was such a dick when you got here."

"Yeah. I'd hope so." You gave him a teasing grin and mouthed one more wet kiss to his cheek before pushing yourself to finally get up, pulling away from his hand holding yours in search of your pants. Underwear was out of the question by this point due to Ville's attachment, but you knew you’d get them back at some point in the (vaguely) near future.

Once you had pulled your jeans back on and did up your belt once more, Ville's hands found your hips and he pulled you forward to where he was still sitting on the couch, his arms wrapping around the back of your legs.

"Just another minute." He mumbled as he rested his chin against the strip of skin between the hem of your shirt and the waist of your jeans. His breath was soft on your skin, and you rolled your eyes as you cupped his cheek.

"Do you like being ridiculed for being late because we were fucking? Because it happens every time." You reminded him sardonically, watching the way he tipped his head to the side to catch the tip of your thumb between his teeth in amusement.

"Maybe." He replied, just brushing his tongue over the pad of your thumb before he was letting you go and wrapping his arms tighter around you so that his cheek was almost touching your hip bone. "Pop something while we're out and we can fuck off of it in bed when we get home."

Some people deeply believed that soulmates didn't exist, but some people also had never had Ville Valo tell them to drop acid so that he could fuck them into oblivion when they were alone once more. You sometimes felt sad for all the people in the world who would never get to be in your position.

"Oh my fucking god, I love you." You groaned as he finally stood up, sweeping an arm around your hips (which he had, in fact, bruised his fingerprints into) and then pulling you in to kiss your temple.

"You're really going to love me when we get home tonight, sweetheart."

[bbyquokka]

Hiii 💞 hope you're having a good day/night/evening

Just wanted to say that I stumbled upon your fics and I loved them sm I finished reading them all 😭 I'm obsessed, I specially love the way you write about Jisung I think he's so close to how I always imagine him 🥺 so I was wondering if you could write something about him, where he and reader are a new couple and he's spending the night at her place for the first time and he's all cute and nervous 💖 thank you sm 💖

hiii! i hope you're having a good day/night/evening also! thank you for reading my fics! dont be afraid to give me feedback on them! thank you for also requesting and i hope this is what you expected. lemme know your thoughts and opinions – i welcome all feedback!

⌢ : ⤹ 💤 sleepover

→ PAIRING: Han Jisung x gn!reader

→ GENRE: fluff | suggestive.

→ SYNOPSIS: you and Jisung have a sleepover

→ WARNINGS: pet name (baby) | established relationship | some suggestive themes, nothing too extreme though

→ WORDS: 1.2k

→ have a request? send it to me here. read my rules to learn about my guidelines before submitting requests!

Feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

→ m.list — → ao3

"So, you're staying over at y/n's tonight? Minho asks your current boyfriend, Jisung, who is packing an overnight bag.

"Yeah, I am." 

"First time?"  Jisung nods slowly, packing some clean underwear and clothing before zipping up his bag. Minho disappears for a second before reappearing, slipping something in Jisung's pocket.

Jisung frowns, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the item Minho slipped in. He sighs softly and rolls his eyes as Minho belly chuckles, clearly amused by his little ‘gift’

“Seriously, lino?” Jisung sighs, hand outstretched as a condom is lay flat on the palm of his hand.

“Hey! You never know. Better to be safe than sorry.” Minho shrugs, speaking in a sing-song tone of voice.

“You’re a menace.” Jisung mutters before putting the condom back in his pocket. He doesn't have any plans on doing anything tonight with you, but as Minho said; better to be safe than sorry.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A soft knock on your door brings you out of your train of thoughts. You've been worried, anxious but also excited about Jisung sleeping over for the first time. You're a fresh couple so you’re still learning about each other. You both agreed to take things slow, deciding it was best for the relationship; neither of you wanted to rush things.

You open the door, smiling lovingly at Jisung. Dressed in standard jeans and t-shirt with a beanie on his head. His overnight bag over his shoulder.

"Sungie!" You grin. Jisung blushes at the nickname, looking at his feet in a shy manner.

"Hi baby." You grin, excitement and nerves bubbling in your stomach. You step to the side to allow him in, closing the door behind you. He takes his shoes and coat off, placing them to the side neatly before taking off his beanie. He ruffles his hair, trying to fix the static state his beanie hat has caused before giving up.

You take his hand gently in yours, your action catching Jisung off guard. You giggle at his flustered state, his nerves getting the better of him.

"My hand is sweaty!" He mumbles, trying to escape your grip.

"I don't mind. Plus, mine is too, so–" You shrug, grinning. Jisung softly chuckles, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you look?" You flush pink, butterflies exploding in your stomach and filling up every cell in your body.

"All the time, Sungie."

"Mhm. Then, I shall keep doing so." You shift your weight from one foot to the other, your heart doing tiny skips.

"Let me show you to my room." You whisper before dragging Jisung through your apartment. Jisung looks around, taking in every small detail of your apartment. From the house plants to the picture frames hanging on the walls; he makes a mental note at how the decoration is so you.

You open the door to your bedroom. You spent that extra hour to make sure your bedroom is clean as a whistle. Fresh sheets on the bed, your plushies neatly situated in their place. Fairy lights on the wall to give it that cosy vibe. The smell of flowers from your perfume you put on earlier is still hanging in the air around you both.

Jisung hums, looking around. It's cute and simple. It's you and that's what he loves about it.

"You can place your bag down on the bed if you want." Jisung snaps out off his thoughts, nodding before placing his bag down. He looks around again, noticing there isn't a spare mattress for him.

"Sorry to ask but, where will I be sleeping?" You flush a deep shade of red, your palms getting sweaty as you chew your bottom lip.

"Uhm. I thought– I thought we could sleep together." You paused, before your eyes widen, noticing how that sounded, "Not in that way! I mean, we could if you wanted to but, i mean like – We sleep! In the same bed!"

Your arms flay around as you stumble over your words, desperate to not make it sound sexual or that you're implying anything. Jisung laughs, cupping your cheeks in his hands gently.

"Hey, I understand." You breathe a sigh of relief, Jisung's lips pressing gently against yours.

"Sorry." You mumble against his lips.

"Don't be. You're cute." You hum, pulling away slowly.

"I'll go make some food or something." 

"Sure! I'll unpack then." 

After Jisung unpacked his bag, he made his way to the kitchen. You're humming a soft tune, cutting up some veggies. Jisung wraps his arms around you gently, kissing your shoulder blade.

"Can I help?" He asks, stroking your sides gently. You hum, handing him a knife and a cutting board. He takes it off you before getting to work.

Making some delicious food and eating it caused you both to become tired all of a sudden. You both agree on getting ready for the night, deciding on settling in bed with a classic movie; Howl's Moving Castle.

Jisung is in the bedroom, stripping himself of his clothing whilst you finish the last of your skincare routine. You walk out off the bathroom, making your way inside your bedroom as Jisung strips himself from his t-shirt and jeans.

You swallow, stopping in your tracks as your half naked boyfriend is standing in your bedroom. Jisung looks at you flustered, trying his best to cover himself up with his hands, feeling semi-naked.

The tips of his ears red, your gaze taking in every detail of his skin. You take in his body proportions. His broad shoulders, his tiny waist and toned skin. He works out occasionally but he takes care of his body by eating and drinking healthily and it shows.

"You're so–" You breathe out, unable to tear your eyes away from him. A sense of shyness explodes in Jisung's stomach, washing over him in waves. You pull his arms away from his body, taking in every detail of his firm chest and abs.

"Perfect." You finish your sentence off, causing Jisung to blush a deep red.

"Thank you." He whispers. You stroke his rosy red cheeks, giggling softly. You strip yourself of your clothing, changing into your nightwear as Jisung does the same.

He picks up his jeans to fold them and puts them to the side neatly, the condom that Minho gave him falling out of his pocket. Jisungs eyes widen as you pick it up, looking at him with a raised brow.

"I– It's not what you think!"

"No?" You question, slowly walking to him. He gulps.

"No! Minho, my roommate, gave it to me! I didn't plan anything, especially when it's our first night together! I'm not like that, please don't think I am."

You laugh at his flustered state, his words spewing out of his mouth at lightning speed. You wrap one arm around his neck pressing your body flush against his. You look at the condom that's held between your fingers before looking at Jisung in a suggestive manner.

"I mean, we could."

Jisung holds your waist gently, biting his bottom lip gently. He swallows, feeling heat rush down south at your implication.

"We could..?" He carefully questions. You hum, nodding.

"We could and I think, we should."

→ TAGS [open]: @chaneomma | @sstarryoong | @purple-belle | @laylasbunbunny | @dilucpegg3r | @chanssmiles | @meltheninja13

[felicitysmoaksx]

Hi, everyone. Thanks so much for reading! I had a plan for this chapter, it was going to be about 5k in total, but the characters had other plans so this is being split into two parts once again! Happy reading! Song recs are: The Little Things by Kelsea Ballerini, The Other POV by Khloe Rose, and Kill Ur Vibe by All Time Low

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI 18+)

Summary:   Sarah returns to work following her injury and Justin's death. (Did she also mention that she was four months pregnant and had also 'popped' overnight?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: implied Sexual Content, inaccurate therapy session, unplanned pregnancy, inaccurate pregnancy depictions, and some slight survivor guilt

Read On AO3 |  Fic Playlist | Fic Playlist but Less Shippy | Want to be tagged when I post a Rheese story?

Sometimes Sarah wondered how she got here. She thought, staring at her raven-haired boyfriend. With this wonderful man, who probably should’ve run away from her a long time ago, but instead stayed by her side like he was superglue. This man was arguably the sexiest man she had ever seen, but not only that…Connor was kind. Connor was protective and admittedly, could be a bit of a mother hen. But it was only because he cared, deeply. He cared about everything. From his patients to his friends and family and for some reason he cared and loved her. 

So yeah, sometimes Sarah thought about how she got here and how different everything was in her life. Especially the biggest change to come…Her hand moved without thought, resting over her still flat stomach. Only…it wasn’t still flat. 

Getting out of bed, she crossed the room to stand in front of the mirror and saw that her stomach now had a small swell to it. According to all the books, she had finally popped. Honestly, they made it sound like she was a piece of popcorn. She thought to herself, turning and running her hand over the small swell of her stomach. Even though the shirt was oversized, there was no denying she was pregnant now. Before, it had just looked like she had put on some extra weight.

A muffled noise came from the bed. Then the man in the bed turned. She watched, struggling not to laugh as Connor stretched out a hand to find her. And when he didn’t find her his sleepy, “Babe?”

“Over here,” she called softly. Connor shifted to sit up with one hand rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Another nightmare-” He yawned but stopped short when he caught sight of her, of her stomach His eyes widened a little, “Oh, wow.”

“I know,” Sarah swept another hand across her boulder-like stomach. Her boyfriend moved so he stood right behind her, arms wrapped around her waist. His hands were covering her own. She nuzzled her face into his neck. His lips pressed to the side of her forehead. 

“Guess the cat will be out of the bag now,” Sarah said in a quiet voice. Connor hummed in agreement. It wasn’t like they had been trying to keep it a secret. But in the grand scheme of things, between Justin passing, Sarah seeing Dr. Richardson again at Hank’s request, and everything else in between with Sarah’s recovery, telling people that they were expecting wasn’t the first thing on their minds. Besides, it was nice having something to themselves for a little while. 

“Are you sure you’re ready to come back? It’s not too late to change your mind. You could take another week,” he mused quietly, squeezing her more to him. 

“I’m going stir crazy enough as it is,” Sarah shook her head at the suggestion. “Hank and Erin are already back at work and besides that, working will provide me with some stability. And I should go back now because, in another five months, I’ll be out for maternity leave.”

Connor bit his tongue. Because they both knew it didn’t quite work like that. Grief didn’t work like that. But he didn’t tell his girlfriend that. Instead, he told her carefully, “I just don’t want you to push yourself to do too much too soon.” 

“And you think another week will fix that?” Sarah asked, pulling her face out of his neck. 

“I think another week would help you mentally prepare for helping people dealing with their most difficult times after you had been through something so traumatic yourself,” Connor ducked his head down to kiss her neck. His lips were so careful around the still-healing scar of her bullet wound. Though Ava had deemed it healed enough that it didn’t need a bandage on it anymore. 

That was a difficult conversation to have. Sarah felt insecure when she looked at the scar. The deep cavernous indentation that wasn’t quite a hole anymore but it certainly wasn’t gone either. It wasn’t attractive, the brunette knew that. Adding that to the scarring she had on her back from her burns and then Connor treating her as if she were glass just waiting to break didn’t help matters either. 

Dr. Richardson noticed a day when her insecurities were getting the best of her and when the brunette confessed what was wrong, encouraged her to do two things: put something that made her feel attractive and then have an honest conversation with him about it. 

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

“What is bothering you most about approaching Connor with this?” The older woman posed the question to Sarah. The brunette shrugged, “I guess the unknown variable. What if I’m right and he does find me unattractive because of my scars both seen and unseen but he doesn’t feel like he can leave me right now because of everything that’s happened? Or ever because I’m having his child and he’s forever tied to me because of it?”

“This is the first time you’ve mentioned your pregnancy outside of our first appointment since you’ve started back seeing me again. But we can circle back to that.” The psychiatrist made a note, “And if that happens, if you’re right. What then?”

“Then I’ll have to be the one to walk away and I’m…Connor is a good man. He’s the best relationship I’ve ever had in my time as an adult. I love him. I don’t want to walk away. But what if that isn’t enough anymore?  What if this is all too much for him but he can’t say it because of everything that’s happened to me? Or because of our baby?”

Dr. Richardson made another note before noticing the time on the clock on the wall behind Sarah. “Okay, we need to find a stopping point. So I want to leave it here and encourage you to talk to Connor about what you’re feeling. You’ve told me he’s honest, kind, and a good man. So be honest with him and see where that leads you, Sarah. Because sooner or later, you’ll have to know and we’ll discuss it next week.”

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

Looking back at it now, Sarah thought she could have handled the conversation better than just blurting out, “You don’t find me attractive anymore, do you?”

And watching her boyfriend look so dumbfounded at her words. She’ll never forget the look on his face as she continued, “I mean, I know I wasn’t much before everything happened, but I’m not attractive anymore am I?”

Then he proved just how wrong she was in her thinking. But that was a story for another time. She didn’t want to think about that right now. Instead, she wanted…

“Love me,” she moaned quietly as she leaned into his touch. Connor captured her lips in response, pulling her back to the bed. 

“How is it today?” Her boyfriend asked quietly while they were basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. 

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

“Sarah, you’re a psychiatrist.” Dr. Richardson reminded her during a session when the curly-haired brunette admitted to feeling guilty because she felt normal one day because it felt like she was moving on way too soon from Justin’s death, “If you were to have a patient tell you this, what would be your response?”

“Grief is something that rapidly changes from day to day,”

“Exactly. Grief isn’t linear. Some days you’ll wake up, and getting out of bed will be a struggle. Some days you’ll wake up and be angry or sad. Sometimes you’ll wake up like today and be perfectly fine.” The woman nodded, agreeing, “You need to treat yourself with care, Sarah. Grief will never completely go away, but don’t feel guilty for the good days you do have.”

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

“It’s there, but it doesn’t hurt as much today,” Sarah told him quietly, pressing a kiss to the permanent love bite she left on his shoulder.

“If that changes?” Connor ran a hand down her back. Another kiss was placed on his shoulder, “You’ll be one of the first ones I tell…What if none of my clothes fit? I haven't had a chance to get maternity clothes yet. They must’ve known I was going back today.”

“Or they knew we’re going to be checking in on them with the ultrasound today,” her boyfriend grinned, patting her newly swollen stomach softly. 

“I might be on the early side of showing, but the book’s and Dr. Grant both say the baby won’t be kicking for another few months: until I’m at least six months or later considering this is my first pregnancy…and what?” 

“What?” 

“You have this weird grin on your face. Why?” Why? He was probably reading too much into her words; no he definitely knew he was reading too much into her words. But she had said first pregnancy and that had conjured images of them…with a sibling for this child. But Connor didn’t want to freak her out because they hadn’t even had this baby yet. So he ran a hand through her curls as he said, “I’m just happy.” 

[LINE BREAK]  [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK] [LINE BREAK]

“Have you thought any more about moving in with me?” Connor prodded in the elevator while they were on the way down to the parking garage. He had floated the question last week during dinner one night. And it was logical, they were about to be tied together forever by their baby. And yet…Sarah didn’t want to move in just because it was smart and made sense. 

And hadn’t they seen this film before? Connor moving in with his broken and recovering girlfriend and it blowing up in their faces? All of it was starting to feel too similar. (There was that secondhand deja vu again.)

“Or we can find a different apartment if the idea of moving into my space is what’s bothering you.” Sarah shot him a look and her boyfriend shrugged with a smirk. 

“I can see the gears turning in your head,” 

“I don’t want to move in together just because we’re having a baby. That’s about as dated as getting married because we’re having a baby out of wedlock.” She told him before pausing. Then the brunette turned sharply to her boyfriend, wagging her finger at him. “Don’t you even dare think about proposing to me right now, Connor Rhodes. I will say no.”

 “So wait nine months after the kid is born, got it.” He snorted and when she shot him another pointed look; it turned into a full-blown laugh as the elevator opened with a ding to the parking garage. 

“You’re ridiculous, but more like twelve months,” Sarah rolled her eyes fondly before he opened the door to his car for her. He leaned in to peck her lips. “But I’m yours and you love me.”

“Why do you want to move in with me? Outside of the practical reasons because of our baby?” She asked after he pulled out of the garage and they were cruising down the road. The hand he had on her thigh flexed. They stopped at a red light and he glanced at her. His blue eyes were practically shimmering. 

“The baby is the main reason I want this sooner than later. But I’d like to think we were always headed towards this. Because you said it yourself a few months ago. You spend five nights out of the week at my place. More often than not though, you don’t even go back to your apartment. Over half of your stuff is at my place by now. So why are you paying thirteen hundred dollars a month for a place, that doesn’t even have an elevator and you spend maybe a week at? Each month?” 

“So you always saw us living together?”

“I always thought that’s what we’re working towards.” Connor shrugged at her question while they started moving again. His hand flexed again as his thumb started rubbing circles into her skin. Such a possessive action. It was something Sarah never found attractive in a man before, but the difference between her exes and Connor? Connor was possessive in private, unless provoked. (She had seen this firsthand because Joey liked to test this boundary and her boyfriend was quick to put him in his place.) Like the love bites on her body, his possessive actions were for them, only. 

“But I’ve thought this was a relationship sooner than you did,” he said, pulling Sarah out of her thoughts. 

“Huh?” 

“We weren’t on the same page until we were four months in,” Connor explained, “I thought we were a couple sooner than you did. So I think I’m a little quicker to jump for this because of that.”

“When did you start to think of this as a relationship?” 

“I-“ he hesitated and Sarah was pleasantly amused to see a flush crawling up her calm, cool, and collective boyfriend’s neck. “I’m not sure I want to tell you that because it’ll come out in a weird way.” 

She just grinned at him. Then she laid her hand over his resting on her thigh. Connor sighed. 

“The day you called me Dr. Rhodes in bed for the first time.” He muttered as he maneuvered his way into the other lane.  The brunette felt her mouth drop open, a laugh bubbling its way off of her lips. 

“So many things to unpack here,” Sarah started, still laughing even as Connor pinched her thigh lightly. “But we had only been sleeping together for about two weeks at that point.” 

“Yeah, so?” 

…So he had only been broken up from Robin for about two months? Or was it three? She couldn’t remember…and why did her brain keep circling back to his and Robin’s relationship? Why did she keep comparing them? 

“I also think that’s the first time you rode me too,” Connor commented and Sarah whipped her head to face him, but her boyfriend was staring at the road. 

Sarah felt her cheeks heating as she said, “Connor, you can’t just say that!”

A red light caught them again. They were nearing the hospital now. Her boyfriend faced her, a wicked gleam in his blue eyes. His rapidly darkening blue eyes-the way they did when they had sex. She shivered.

“Why? We’re the only ones in the car and you were thinking way too much and I needed to get you out of your head somehow. Since we’re in the car, I’m limited as to what I can do…” His hand moved a little higher up her thigh. 

“Because I think the last time you talked dirty to me,” she started trying to ground him back to reality, the brunette grabbed the hand on her thigh and placed it on her swollen stomach, “This happened.” 

“You act like I’m afraid to put another baby in you,” he pecked her lips quickly, before he went back to driving, “I’m not.”  (If only they knew…) 

“Connor,” she sputtered, while they pulled into the hospital parking lot and waited in line for a valet to come and take his car. Her boyfriend kissed her again, this one their tongue met but it was fleeting.

“It’s true,” Connor muttered against her lips, before he leaned his forehead against hers. “You know how proud I am of you, baby?” 

“I haven’t done anything yet,” 

“I’m still proud of you for trying.” Connor reiterated firmly with another kiss on her forehead. “And if it doesn’t work out coming back this soon, you know that’s okay too.”

(If only Sarah knew it wasn’t going to be a good day, but not for the reason everyone thought.)

[scarletttries]

NSFW Headcanon Request: Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

Steven Grant (Moon Knight) + Masturbation + Dirty Talk

Being away from Steven was always hard, picturing him on his own, in his tiny flat, staring out the window eagerly awaiting your return. But tonight, as you settled into the puffy white duvet of your hotel king bed, the gap beside you felt all the bigger for the lack of sweet, London boy filling it. The surprisingly nice room you were stuck in overnight for a work trip had you craving the opportunity to drag your boyfriend on a vacation with you, mind reeling with all the possibilities you'd get up to together in a bedroom this exquisite .

Checking the time you quickly dialled the familiar number on your phone, smiling as his picture popped, a photo you took of the two of you at the end of your second date, right before you kissed him. Every time you saw it you could still remember the way he almost jumped at the contact, failing to hold back his smile against your lips.

"Hello love! Are you safely at the hotel? Is your room nice? DId you have a good day?" He chirped up, launching excitedly into his questions, only stopping when he heard your laugh creeping through the speaker, "Sorry, I know I should let you answer, I just miss you so terribly." You could almost hear his pout as he spoke, both hands nervously clutching the phone to his ear until you chimed in,

"I miss you too Steven. So much. And I'm at the hotel now and my room is super nice, and it just makes me wish you were here even more." You let your voice trail off, slightly pleading, the sound of Steven's voice already affecting you from cities away.

"I wish I was there too love, I'd give you a big hug!" He replied warmly, always so sweet to you, and ever the gentleman. You thought about his strong arms wrapped around you and noticed your thighs press together in reaction. Speaking slowly and deliberately, you cooed at him again,

"My bed feels so big and empty with you Steven, if you were here i'd want you to do more than hug me," You paused on the thought, listening to the unsteady breathing on the other end of the call, wondering if he was picking up on your teasing tone,

"Well I'd kiss you as well dear?" He offered wistfully, desperate to be able to see your smile as he spoke, his flat not feeling as much like home without you in it. You stifled a laugh at the innocence in his answer, your heart only beating faster at how incredibly sweet your boyfriend was, how fun he is to play with. Keeping the phone pressed to your ear, you let your free hand slide slowly down your stomach, over the soft fabric of a sweatshirt you'd borrowed from Steven for the trip.

"I love kissing you Steven," you purred, "It always gets me so," you let your hand slip under the waistband of your underwear "excited." Your voice went up in pitch on the final word, finally catching Steven's attention, not to mention his imagination,

"Really?" He breathed out, your sultry tone enough to start him feeling a little flustered.

"Really Steven. Even just thinking about it while I hear your voice is enough to get me so wet." You let a finger dip between your folds, feeling the warmth inside your forming at the thought of Steven shifting uncomfortably in his armchair at your words,

"Oh! Oh right, are you? um." He tried to ask, brain struggling to string the question together as he pictured you sprawled out in bed, thinking of him.

"Mhmm," You hummed, bringing some of your slick to your clit and rubbing over it in slow circles as you listened to his excited breathing, "I'm touching myself because I miss you so much Steven, and right now I really miss your body. Do you miss me?" You could hear the shuffling of clothes as Steven fought to reply,

"Yes! Yes, god of course I miss you! You're so beautiful and so kind, and you make me feel so good when we're together," he praised, bringing his own hand to the growing bulge between his legs. The sound of your happy hums and deep breath had Steven aching for your touch as his erection sprang free of his pyjamas, picturing the way your chest would rise and fall against his when it was his hand between your legs. He hissed at the relief as he brought his palm to his cock, rubbing the length of it a few times before he spoke again, still slightly trepidatious about this new form of intimacy.

"I'm touching myself too now, I hope that's okay, you just sound so sexy." He pleaded sweetly, feeling unsure until he heard the happy moan leave your lips,

"Of course that's okay Steven. I bet you look fucking incredible, rubbing yourself for me." You dipped your fingers inside you again, coating them in your sticky excitement before bringing them back to your clit, rubbing faster now, "I only wish I could be there to take care of that incredible dick for you. It would feel so good on my tongue right now," you heard Steven whine at the thought,"I'd take it deep in my throat over and over again until you couldn't take anymore." The tension building in your centre grew as you heard Steven whimper,

"I'd take it," always so willing to be good to you,

"Oh I know you would gorgeous, but by then I'd be so excited that I'd just need you inside me. Like right now, I'm touching myself and I'm so wet and I feel like I'm so empty without you inside me that I'm aching for you Steven. I'm so desperate to feel your long, hard cock filling me up, my fingers just don't feel as good as you." You pictured Steven's leaking manhood as you spoke, how he'd be twitching against his fist, how good that feels inside you when his hips start to stutter and rock harder when he's close, the almost reverent look on his face when his pleasure starts to take over thanks to you.

"I wish I could be there inside you right now," he croaked back, voice faltering as he pictured your glistening fingers curling inside of you, how perfect you looked writhing underneath him when it was his hand making you cum again and again as his thighs held your knees wide apart. "You feel so good wrapped around sweetheart, your hand, your mouth, your cunt, all of you is so perfect, so completely made for me. I can't wait for you to get home so I can taste you again. I ne-. I need you." He panted out in a groan as he called your name, his self control lapsing as he spilled into his pumping hand, making a mess he couldn't help but picture you happily licking off him.

Hearing his guttural moan, the peak of his voice, you could tell you had tipped him over the edge, your own thighs started to tremble as you kept up the pace of your swirling fingers. You thought of Steven covered in his own sticky mess, cheeks flushed as what's happened sinks in, listening to your eager whimpers as you chase your imminent high. You pictured your return home tomorrow, Steven slamming the door behind you and dragging you into bed before you'd even kicked off your shoes. You thought about the way he'd feel as he bucked his hips into yours as you reunited with a kiss, before crawling down your thighs, muscular arms holding you in place as stares down at you in adoration, like what you've formed together is somehow sacred, and now he must worship at your altar. You thought about the sparks that shoot through you the first time he licks broad stripes over your core, fingers tracing tiny circles on the sensitive skin of inner thigh, your squirming reaction bringing Steven the closest thing to a smirk he can muster. And when you'd cum on his tongue, his fingers would plunge inside you without a moment's pause, deftly working to bring you back to the peak of your bliss again before he even considered his own aching desire. You felt yourself release on the thought of it all, sighing out Steven's name in a trembling breath as your whole body shook with the ecstasy. Steven listened intently to your moans and sighs as you rubbed yourself through your high, feeling all the more erotic for knowing Steven clutching himself tightly on the other end of the call.

Your loud sigh turned into a yawn as you drifted down your high, your skin so sensitive against the soft fabric of his sweatshirt you wrapped an arm around yourself and squeezed tightly.

"I really can't wait to be home tomorrow Steven." You said, softly, sweetly, almost able to hear the longing as he replied,

"I miss you so much. Please don't go away again." You knew that wasn't guarantee you could make so you did your best to reassure him,

"It will be ages until my next trip, and we can make up for lost time tomorrow. Sleep well Steven, I love you,"

"I love you too, so much. Stay safe." He replied sleepily waiting to hear the click at the end of the line before he dared to bring the home away from his ear. No sooner had he finished cleaning himself up that he heard the phone chime again, you again but a message this time. He eagerly opened it, met with the image of you lay across the bed, his sweatshirt pulled high enough to reveal your bare chest, one hand resting over your clearly damp underwear.

'In case you want to miss me again before I get home tomorrow.' Steven wasn't going to get much sleep that night.

[nkirukaj]

I Want You, Simon- Chapter 11

Pairing: Simon Petrikov x Fem! OC

Warnings: implied sexual feelings and sexual touching

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Word Count: 2.9K

Chapter 10

Although Samira had been inside of Simon’s house before, this time she was stepping inside with the intention of staying there overnight, and that alone was exciting. She pulled in the duffel that she had to force Simon to let her carry. He teetered behind her, his hand awkwardly hanging in front of him. Samira drops her bag on the side of the couch and stood with her back to him, before turning to address him.

“Now what?”

He looks confused “What do you mean?”

“I’m your roomie for the week, what do you want to do to…” she paused “break me in,”

He did not address her double layered thinly veiled sexual pun, though it seems that he didn’t understand it.

“I’m not sure,” He closes the door, then his eyes brighten before saying “It’s funny. This reminds me of when Betty and I first moved in together.” He laughs “Before we even had a bed or a table, she kicked off her shoes and started dancing in the empty space. It was so fun to watch her.”

Samira had started to feel slightly uncomfortable. There was nothing she could contribute to that topic. She didn’t know her, and considering that she no longer existed, Samira did not see the importance of talking about her. Nothing they would even say would change anything in their present, except fill the room with dead air.

And fill the room with dead air, it did. Simon seemed to be a bit too focused on memories to notice that Samira hadn’t responded, and she was starting to get a little chafed. Yes, obviously she was important to him, but what woman wants to hear about the ex of the guy they’re attracted to? Samira cleared her throat, which seemed to snap him out of his trance, while simultaneously embarrassed him for being in one.

“Sorry,” he said, his face flushing

“It’s fine,” she responded, “When you were talking about…” she clears her throat “Betty.” she tries to rush past the name “Only she danced?” Simon turns his head to the side in confusion “Like, did you? Did you dance?”

He takes the time to think about it “No, I don’t think so. I was just so enamored while watching her”

Samira’s face is flat, betraying no emotion “Did you want to?”

“What?”

“Dance. Did you want to dance?”

He looked away and rubbed his arm “Didn’t I already embarrass myself on your birthday?”

She gave him a small smile “How about this,” she touches his arm “You can teach me to dance how you do. Like the ballroom thing or whatever”

He smiles “Okay.”

After some furniture pushing. Samira and Simon stood in the middle of the empty space. Samira waves her arms around.

“Teach me, Professor!”

Simon smiles at her and put his arms out, reaching toward her “You have to come to me.”

Samira looks playfully suspicious “You can’t come to me?”

He shakes his head “No no no. You have to come to me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m leading.”

“Why are you leading?”

“Because you dont know what you’re doing!” he smiles “Besides, I’m the man.”

She approaches him “So what?”

“The man always leads.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean they-”

He puts up his finger “Do you want me to teach you or not?”

She steps into his arms, with a slight frown that he did not seem to notice. There was nothing Samira hated more that being interrupted, but she didn’t want to make it a big deal. He was respectful in every other way.

Simon placed one of her hands on his shoulder and the other, he held in his hand.

“May I touch you?” he asked

See? Respectful?

“Yes,” she responded definitively

He places his free hand on her waist, which electrifies her (metaphorically, of course). She wasn’t really able to read his face, and see where his mind, with left a bit of a pit in her stomach.

“I’m going to start now. Just follow me.”

Each step he took she followed, unsure of where and how far to step, she looked down at their feet. As she watched his feet move, she felt Simon’s hand lifting up her chin.

“You have to look at me,” he spoke gently. She reflexively opened her mouth to respond, and he lifted her chin higher before she could. Samira’s body felt like it was on fire (in a pleasant way). She felt herself sinking into the sight of him, when he spoke.

“I remember when I used to dance with Betty. She used to want to lead too.” He laughs at his memories and looks off to the side “One time she accidentally….”

Samira did not hear the rest of the story through the ringing in her ears. She squinted her eyes and pursed her lip. Her feet stop moving and her fingers reactively grip his shoulder and his fingers to get his attention.

“Simon!”

He snaps back to attention “Yes?”

“Look at me.”

He does look at her, and gradually loses his train of thought while they drop their arms momentarily. He stares into her eyes, wide and deep. He suddenly felt sheepish.

“Did you need something?” He asked

She shrugged slightly “You’re supposed to look at me aren’t you?”

He nods “Yes. I am”

They didn’t really know how the bed situation was supposed to work out. Samira believed that because she was a guest, that she shouldn’t intrude further by taking up his bed. While Simon believed that she should take the bed because she was the guest.

“But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable!” she was an octave away from yelling

“You think I want you to be uncomfortable?!” as was he

“The couch is bad for your back!”

“What about yours?”

“My back is fine!”

He scoffs “And what’s wrong with mine?”

She scoffs back at him “I hear your bones cracking when you move”

His mouth is agape “And I hear you trying to hide it when yours do!”

Her jaw drops “My bones do not crack!”

He waves her off and crosses his arms “You might as well be a firecracker Sami!”

Samira looks at him, eyes wide with shock and mouth even wider. They stare at each other, bot in shock at what was just said. Their shock turns into smiles, which turn into laughter. Wild, crazy, uncontainable laughter. With them ending up sitting on the floor.

“I’m not getting in that bed,” Samira says, trying to stop laughing

“Neither am I,” he spoke through chortles

Samira crosses her arms “Well, I guess we’re both sleeping on the floor then

“I guess we are.”

Both of these stubborn geezers laid face up on the hardwood floor, for about 10 minutes. Shimmying an flinching. After about 20 minutes, Samira sits up.

“Maybe we can just share the bed.”

“Great idea”

They stood next to the bed staring, each one waiting for the other.

“Go ahead,” Simon gestures toward the bed

Samira looks at him like he’s crazy “What? No! I don’t need to be near the wall! I’ll be trapped!”

He rolls his eyes and climbs in the bed, patting the empty side, Samira slips under the cover. They are in very close proximity, considering the bed is not huge. Simon removes his glasses, and places them on his nightstand, next a picture of Betty, that he never thought to take down. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a bed with another person,” Samira says, mostly to herself. She’s turned with her back to him. He lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Ditto,” he responds, thinking about just how long it was.

“Goodnight Simon,” she says

“Goodnight Samira,” he says, knowing that he would not be sleeping

During the night, Samira moved quite a bit while she slept. To the point where Simon started to count all the times he felt her feet on him. 12 at this point. He felt the urge to reach old and hold her still, but wasn’t sure if that was appropriate. 

She turned to face him in her sleep, and he studied her face. He had meant it on her birthday. She did look very young. No gray hair, no crow’s feet and no wrinkles. Just tight and supple skin. As he stared, he started to wonder if she was tight everywhere…

He reached up to cover the warmth on his face. Being friends with a beautiful person was so embarrassing. He turned his face away, but couldn’t look away for long. He went back to staring at her, when her eyes fluttered open. He was caught.

“Are you staring at me?” she asked groggily

He darted his eyes around “Yes” he stated plainly

She smiled “Okay, well, now I’m staring at you. We can stare at each other.”

He smiles back “Okay.”

She didn’t last even 5 minutes before falling back to sleep.

The next day, Samira offered to treat him to ice cream. He hadn’t had ice cream in a thousand years, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to try some again.

“You don’t have to.” She said while they were on line “Do you mind if I eat it around you?

He shook his head “No, you go ahead.”

Samira nods when they get to the front. He watches her order and mulls it over some more. He taps her shoulder. She turns to him.

“Maybe I could try a small one?” 

Samira smiles and nods.

“You know I never asked you, how did you and Marceline meet?”

“Um,” she dips her spoon in her ice cream “in a music shop. I was looking for a keyboard, and she needed a new bass”

“You play the keyboard?”

“Yeah,” she puts the scoop in her mouth “Doesn’t every musician? You learn keyboard first, then evolve on to something else.” 

Simon eats his ice cream slowly, absorbing her words and trying to get comfortable with it, as well as to not get brain freeze. 

“But what made you want to, I guess ‘hang out’?”

“Well mostly because she’s awesome and so am I. So we decided to combine our collective awesomeness and make some sweet music”

He lets it melt in his mouth before swallowing. “I admire your confidence.” She shrugs and eats another scoop. “No seriously. You just casually refer to yourself positively all the time.”

She raises an eyebrow “Are you making fun of me?”

He stops with the spoon midway between the cup and his mouth “No no no! I mean it, sincerely!”

“Oh.” She takes another scoop “You’ll get there one day.” She jokes

He smiles, and wonders if that was true or not.

It took Samira a while to understand the thing with the eggs. 

Simon was going on about a memory with Betty, which in and of itself made her roll her eyes, but when Simon got to the part where he mentioned how she made eggs “perfectly jammy”, she couldn’t help but speak up.

“What is that?”

“What is what?”

“Jammy eggs?”

“Oh they’re just eggs soft-boiled.”

“Soft boiled????”

He stares at her “Yes?”

“You mean not cooked all the way? Like half raw.”

He shrugs “I suppose so.”

“Glob, that sounds worse than medium rare meat.”

“Ooh, I love medium rare.” He peeps up. She gives him a blank stare, before walking away.

Later on, she sits on the couch with a a bowl of egg salad. Complete with lettuce, tomatoes, and croutons. Simon is sitting next to her on the couch.

“What’s that?” he asks

“Egg salad,” she answers casually “Hard boiled eggs.” she says smugly. 

She is glancing at him, while he glances at her and her bowl. She eats another spoonful and follows with eyes. Samira chews, smirking at the power she held. She peeks at him once again, just to make sure she had his attention. She did. 

“Would you like some?” She asks, without turning towards him

“Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“I’m offering,”

“Well then…alright. I’ll try it.“ he reaches out his hand, expecting her to give him the spoon, however, what she did instead was

“Open your mouth,”

“Excuse me?”

She giggles “Open your mouth,”

He does, cautiously, and she places the spoon inside of it. Allowing him a taste of her food, while suggesting subtly that he get a taste of her.

His eyes widen surprise at the pleasurable flavor of the taste he’d been given. He hadn’t expected to like it that much. When he looked back at her, she was smirking at him.

“You want some more, don’t you?”

He nods small “If you don’t mind.”

Her smirk gets wider as she moves closer to feed him more and more. While feeding him, there is a moment where some of the salad falls off the spoon and lands on her finger, to which she proceeded to suck it off. He was unable to change his gaze, he was so transfixed by her actions.

“Oh well, it’s all gone.” She takes the bowl back to the kitchen, leaving him there on the couch, utterly confused and a little excited. 

As the week went on and on, Samira became a bit more outward with her flirting. At first it was a brush past here, and a squeeze on an arm there, but ever since she had fed him from her own bowl, with her own spoon, she’d stop feeling the need to hide it. Especially since, Simon would routinely go off talking about memories he had made and things that he and Betty done together. It was so frustrating, this seemed to be the most surefire way to get him to pay attention to her, and maybe pick up what she was putting down. 

Not that Simon didn’t notice. How could he not notice? The touches and sensations had lit a fire inside of his body. He couldn’t look at her without feeling, and the fire was only groing stronger and stringer. It started off with light touches. But at this point, after spending this much time in such close proximity, even sharing a bed, for Glob’s sake, Samira grew restless of her hints falling on deaf ears, so she elected to take it up a notch. Such, touching his hair, running her fingers up and down areas of his body, leaning her body against him when he sat and she stood, and nudging closer when they laid together in the bed. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy himself around and secretly long for the next time she’d touch him, but he wasn’t sure if he could go any longer without addressing it.

For example, on this particular, she was holding onto his arm while they were chatting. Leaning on his shoulder, which he, of course, did not mind at all. They were talking about their respective musical experience. He had told that he also played the keyboard. 

“That’s something that we have in common,” she said, looking up at him. 

“Yep it is.”

“Do you sing?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you sing?”

He brushes his hair back behind his ear, “I guess I can sing. But I don’t really. At least, not often. Like I wouldn’t call myself a singer. Like, I’m nowhere near as good as you.”

“You don’t have to be.” She reassures him “A man who sings is hot.” She looks down at his legs, and her fingers lightly traverse them. “Although you don’t really need help in that department.” She squeezes his thigh gently.

He jumps up and moves to the other side of the living room. He turns to face the window, and then back at her.

“Um, may I say something?”

“Of course”

“Well, I enjoy your company” he stares down at her face, feeling a bit warm and self conscious “I think you’re an intelligent, funny-“ she stands and takes steps toward him, and his face grows hotter “pretty, beautiful, gorgeous…” he gulps, taking in her siren stare “Sexy. Woman. But…Betty-“

“Your ex…?”

“You remind me of her, she’s still on my mind. And she…was everything.” He runs his hands through his hair 

“Simon,” she placed her hand on his chest lightly, and his words

stopped on their own. “I believe you”

“How do you mean?” His voice cracking slightly

“I believe you,” she restated herself calmly and steadfast “I believe that she was everything. But Simon,”

She grabs his arms and places her hands on his hands, gazing up at him. 

“I am everything. Because I am here.”

She reaches up and places her hand on the back of his neck, turning it slightly downwards, as she stood a bit taller and planted a deep, but light kiss on his lips. His arms snake around her waist instinctively. After a few seconds, he pushes her away slightly, leaving her bewildered. He looks down in shame, clutching his arm. 

“Sorry I pushed you,”  

“What the plump Simon?”

He continues to avoid her gaze. 

“Why did you do that?”

She blinks rapidly in confusion “What?”

“Th-th-the lip touch. What was that about?”

“You mean kissing you?” She lowers her pitch and her eyes. 

“Y-yeah, what was that about?”

She looks around and shrugs “I don’t know? I like you?”

He just shakes his head solemnly, his eyes still staring at the floor. 

“I think…I want to be alone.” 

She scoffs in disbelief “You’re kicking me out?”

His head shoots up “No! I’m just politely asking you to leave.” 

“So you’re kicking me out,” 

“Is that how you’re perceiving it?” 

She squints her eyes, takes a step toward him, opens her mouth and restrains herself. She grabs her jacket and bag and storms out of the house. 

Chapter 12

[evesaintyves]

The Night of the Brown Bananas

@hinnyfest prompt #11: Nightmares

Harry/Ginny, Rated T, 2973 words, domestic fluff and domestic angst

Ginny and Harry finally move into their first flat together, but their new life isn't exactly what Ginny expected. A postwar Hinny slice of life.

i started this as a gift for the lovely @hinnyfied (hbd), but it got a bit out of hand 🫠 read it here (it's long lol) or on AO3 💛🤎🖤

All that was left was Ginny's old canvas school satchel and her overnight bag. She stood next to them in her empty room, chewing her thumbnail. She and Harry had wrestled her old trunk and her cardboard boxes downstairs together by hand, which had earned Harry a snivelly hug from Mum and an equally-snivelly handshake from Dad. Ginny was sure she was in for a whole rainstorm of crying when she showed up downstairs with her bags on her shoulders.

Strange how much bigger her room looked without all her things in it. A spiderweb waved loose in the corner where it had once been attached to her desk lamp. Dark shapes on the walls where pennants and posters had shielded the wallpaper from the sun. Those were all in a box now, rolled into neat cylinders by a charm and a funny whipping motion of the tip of her mum's wand. Mum had tried to teach her how to do it but Ginny had only been half-listening so eventually Mum had done that frustrated little huff of breath through her nose and rolled them all up herself.

The place on the baseboards where Ginny had once, seven years old, scratched I HATE FRED AND GEORGE was still there. She thought about charming it away so her mum and dad wouldn't see it—she even took her wand out—but it felt like erasing a memory. Fred and George had transfigured her Harpies scarf to show a bad word and she'd gone to three errands with mum before anyone noticed. Her mum had been so red that even her dad had seemed alarmed at her fury. She'd sent Ginny and the twins to their rooms, even though Ginny hadn't even known what the word meant (until Fred and George, delighted, had explained it to her over breakfast the next morning).

Harry pushed the door open with a slow creak and Ginny hid her bitten thumb behind her back. 

"Ready?" he said. "I've got everything set up outside so we can just grab it and apparate."

He always stood in the hallway unless he was invited, as if they weren't about to be sharing a flat, a bedroom, a bed.

"Yeah." Ginny gave him a faint smile. "Just give me a minute."

He lingered there for a few seconds like he wasn't sure if he should go, then turned and clomped down the stairs.

This was the last minute she'd still live in the house she'd shared with her brothers. The next time she came she'd only be visiting. That felt like it should make her feel something, but all she had were sore arms, the buzz of excitement in her stomach, the prickly emptiness where some deeper feeling should be.

She shouldered her bag and went downstairs to face her mum's stupid tears.

-----

That first night in their little flat, they were too tired to do anything but flump down on their too-hard new mattress and fall asleep. Ginny dreamt she was signing a contract with the Kestrels, big ridiculous ceremonial quill in her hand, the fluff of it tickling in her nose, eyes watering from all the sports-reporter flashbulbs. She touched the quill to the big scroll of parchment and signed her name.

Good evening, my dear, the contract wrote back. It's been such a very long time. Are you still wondering if you'll ever learn to do a Cuban Eight on your broomstick? Is your brother still nasty to you about it?  I know—

She woke with a hiss of breath and cramps shooting up her calves. Panic hammered through her veins—dark. I'm hurt—until she remembered where she was and that she'd made about twenty trips up and down the stairs with boxes yesterday, thinking it'd be nice to get a leg workout in before tryouts.

She rolled on her side, rested her head on the crook of her arm, bit down on her middle fingernail and watched the slow swells of Harry's breathing. They hadn't hung the curtains yet and the bare bedroom wall was stained with the swapping colours of the traffic light outside: green, yellow, red. She took a breath and held it to slow her heartbeat. Tonks had taught her how to do that. She crammed that useless thought down into the dark cellar storage inside her, along with the sick lingering unease of the dream.

This view of Harry, the narrow shoulders in silhouette and that mess of black hair against the pillow: she'd seen it before, but today in their flat it was exhilaratingly new. This was going to be her every morning, this was going to be her middles-of-the-night. She was going to get used to it. How absolutely mad.

Later, in the faint blush of sunrise, Harry took a long deep breath and stretched his arms over his head. When he turned to face her, his skinny legs tangling in the sheets and that slow squinty smile spreading across his face, Ginny forgot all about the panic and the cramps and my dear and just climbed on top of him, thinking only this is how it's supposed to be, you and me, every day.

------

Ginny felt silly getting so excited for their first big shop. She was uncomfortable amongst all the muggles in the plasticky brightness of Sainsbury's, but Harry pushed the trolley down the overstimulating gauntlets of every-colour packets and tins with a bored confidence that looked weird on him. 

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Aunt Petunia used to drag me along and make me carry the big thing of serviettes that wouldn't fit in the bags."

The muggle snacks were nasty-looking and there weren't even any pumpkin flavours, but Harry grabbed boxes of biscuits and crisps and assured her she'd understand when she tried them. He piled the trolley with fruit and veg, spinach and carrots and apples and bananas.

"You know I can't cook like Mum, right?" Ginny huffed.

"Yeah, I dunno—you've got tryouts and I've got the Auror Academy physical coming up—thought we could try making smoothies or something—you know—grown up, healthy—" He shrugged and ruffled his hair with his hand.

Making smoothies for breakfast with the boy who lived, in their bright little flat that smelled of his cedar trunk and soap. Ginny was stricken, for an instant, by an idea that seemed stupid but dizzyingly true at the same time—that she'd never understood before what it must have been like for Harry to suddenly find out he was a wizard when he was eleven, but maybe it was something like these last few days: the buoying relief of having survived her old life long enough to see her new one, and the unmoored thrill of all the future discoveries unknown, undreamt-of. 

She pressed a kiss to the crescent of skin behind his ear as he counted out the strangely-coloured muggle banknotes, and she could feel the warm flush in his skin where her lips touched him.

------

Of course the smoothies never happened.

Harry was in meetings with Minister Shacklebolt and his transition team most days, and Ginny spent afternoons practicing for tryouts with Bill, swooping over the seaside cliffs like starlings and hurling his battered old quaffle over the peaked roof of Shell Cottage. 

The spinach wilted in the cupboard and the bananas sat unbothered in the fruit bowl, mottled with brown spots. Harry and Ginny ordered pizza and ate it in knackered silence. All the singing nerves of the day they'd moved in together had subsided under the heavy disappointing drone of the neighbour's telly through the wall. Harry would rub Unknotting Unguent into Ginny's spasming back and then she'd crawl into bed and fall asleep listening to the scratch of his quill as he revised for the Auror Academy exams. It wasn't anything like she'd imagined. It wasn't anything. It was like the time just before winter holidays or her birthday, the dragging, drudging lope of days spent waiting for something exciting—but what? This was it. This was supposed to be it.

Her mum and dad dropped by while Harry was out, and while Molly managed to hold her tongue at the stack of pizza boxes next to the bin and the gnats buzzing round the fruit bowl, Ginny could see on her face that she wasn't impressed. She looked so old, all of a sudden. Arthur did too, but at least his face lit up with a boyish glee when he wandered through the flat flipping all the lightswitches. Ginny pulled the chain of the the ceiling fan for him and he giggled like a little kid.

"Has Angelina been round lately?" Ginny asked them over chipped mugs of tea. She knew better than to ask directly about George.

"She's in Freiburg, actually, consulting with Ellerby and Spudmore," Arthur said. That sounded dead grown-up. Ginny couldn't even imagine. With a cautious glance over at her mum, he added, "I gather they're on a bit of a break. George has been... in one of his moods, I think. We don't hear much."

He was speaking in that hushed, apologetic tone he'd been using ever since all the funerals.

"Oh," Ginny said.

"I've been to the Tonks house this week," her Mum cut in. Her dad pressed his lips together until they went white.

"Did you see Teddy?" Ginny asked, setting down her half-eaten shortbread. She and 

Harry hadn't been to visit him in the last few weeks, with the way all their time was eaten by moving out and practice and exams and just everything, every thing.

"He was having a little kip—" Molly started, but then she stopped and took a big slurp of her tea, the way she always did when she was about to deliver hard news. 

A brand-new understanding thumped in Ginny's chest: that steadying tea-slurp was her mum's need to soothe herself, the way Ginny would peel off slivers of fingernail with her teeth. Somehow it was both startling and obvious. She'd been watching her mum do it for almost nineteen years.

"He's been having a bit of trouble—er, sleeping and that—" Arthur filled in for Molly with a weak chuckle.

"He won't sleep in his bed," Molly blurted out, "he's afraid something's underneath and trying to get him. Andromeda tried to make him tell her what he thinks is under there—you know, he's barely two—and all he would say was 'Mummy and Daddy'—"

Another slurp of tea. Arthur reached out to stroke Molly's upper arm.

Hours later, when Harry came home, he didn't ask why Ginny was lying on the sofa with her eyes all swollen. He just sat next to her and laid his hand on her cheek. She didn't start crying again, but it was a weird comfort to just lie there and throb with his quiet warmth at her side.

------

The neighbours downstairs had a party so loud Ginny could feel the bass vibrating in the mattress springs. She and Harry cast every muffling and white-noise charm they knew, but the beat pounded through the very frame of the building. It invaded Ginny's head like a commanding voice and made her legs twitch with electric, frustrated rage. 

"I'm going to go downstairs, curse the door off the hinges and hex every single one of them and their—their muggle—music box or whatever—"

Harry turned over and squinted at her in the dark.

"You can't get arrested, they'll disqualify you from tryouts," he croaked.

Ginny kicked all her covers off and rolled in a ball on her side, clutching her stomach.

Harry managed to fall asleep with his head sandwiched between two pillows, but Ginny laid there in spiraling despair until the police came to break the party up. The curtains were still in a wrinkled lump on the bedroom floor, so the flashing lights made a red-and-blue lightshow on the bedroom wall. Harry didn't even move. When the music finally shut off, Ginny closed her eyes in exhausted relief, but it seemed like the moment she fell asleep the sun was shining red through her eyelids and the pipes were groaning with Harry's morning shower.

The browning bananas curved like a smirk in the fruit bowl. Ginny blankly spooned Harry's weird muggle cereal into her mouth. Her thoughts were the same slow pointless drip as the broken tap in the kitchen. Harry leaned down to kiss her neck on his way out the door. He followed her gaze to the bananas.

"They're getting almost as freckly as you," he murmured into her ear, smacked another kiss on her cheek, and left. Ginny sat in the abrupt calm of the flat for a moment, blinking, then threw her spoon into the bowl with a clink and flooed over to Bill's, where she slung the quaffle so hard and so wildly it broke the weather vane off the roof and sent it spinning into the kitchen garden. Fleur came running out the back door at the noise, wiping her hands on a tea towel and cursing in French. Bill pulled his broom up alongside pinkfaced, panting Ginny and gripped her shoulder with his big rough hand.

------

Harry sat up in the dead of night with a gasp like he was coming up from underwater and touched his fingertips to his scar.

Ginny sat up too, so fast it made her abs twinge. "What is it? Does it hurt?"

"No," Harry said, "not really. Only in the dream."

He sat there blinking for a moment, red traffic light painting his face, then flopped back on his side and pulled the covers up to his neck. Ginny felt suddenly very alone in their bed.

"I have weird dreams too," she whispered.

She didn't think Harry had heard her at first, but after a moment, muffled by the duvet, he said, "Do you?"

"Yeah."

He turned over to face her. "Like what?"

"I dunno," she said. She didn't know why she'd even said it, because she didn't really want to talk about it now. "Like I made it on a Quidditch team but I don't want to play anymore."

Harry was quiet for so long she thought he must have gone back to sleep, but then he slid over and rested his forehead against her thigh. It had taken him so long, when they'd first begun seeing each other, to start giving her little touches like this. She didn't suppose the Dursleys had been touchers. She wove her fingers into his hair.

"I haven't felt like myself lately," she blurted out. "I mean—not just lately—but especially—I dunno—"

She took a breath and the hitch in it repulsed her.

Harry didn't say anything, but she could feel his eyelashes blinking against her leg. The light from outside turned green and painted the rumpled sheets that pooled around the both of them.

"I just—we never even made smoothies. The bananas are all rotten now. The curtains are still over there on the floor. How long is it going to be like this? How long can I not feel like myself before I have to admit that this is just how I am now?"

She shoved her thumbnail in her mouth. Warm stupid tears were leaking down her face and dripping all the way down her neck to her collarbones. She'd normally have scrubbed them away with the back of her hand and gone somewhere to collect herself, but she wanted them, weirdly, to prove how pathetic this dumb fucked-up feeling was. Mum's coppery hair was coming in white, poor Andromeda had to think about dead Tonks crawling out from under the bed, George was aching alone in his filthy bedsit, Fred was in the ground turning into something unrecognisable, and Ginny was sat here crying like an idiot over some fucking brown bananas.

Harry sat up and looked at her. "The bananas went bad?"

Ginny laughed through her noseful of snot.

"They're nearly black now," she sniffed. "Its so stupid, I just hate to waste—"

Harry suddenly swung his legs out of the bed and walked in his stiff morning way out of the bedroom.

The traffic light was yellow now. Ginny got up and followed him into the kitchen.

Harry was holding the bunch of bananas betwen two fingers. A tenacious fruit fly looped circles around them. He broke one off the bunch with a nasty squishing noise.

"I'll eat them right now," he said. "Zero waste."

He pulled the black peel back from the banana. A fermented smell came off it and stung the back of Ginny's nose. Webby strings of goo stretched between the fruit and the skin, and they caught the light from outside and shone with it like tiny filaments of neon.

"Er—" Harry started, his brow furrowing.

"You don't have to eat it," Ginny said quickly.

Harry stared at her for a moment with such intensity that she thought he might take a bite just to shock her.

Then he turned around and chucked them into the kitchen bin.

"We'll go to Sainsbury's in the morning," he said. Ginny's face was itchy with drying tears. Harry wiped his hands off on the seat of his pyjamas and brushed past her into the bedroom.

"Come on, I'll rub that stuff on your back if you want," he called over his shoulder.

Ginny didn't, but she followed him back to bed. In the morning, she woke to the quiet rustling sounds of Harry putting up the curtains. The flat still reeked of rotting banana. When she sat up, Harry turned around to look at her, grinned, and accidentally bashed the curtain rod into the window frame. Ginny felt a sleepy little flicker inside: this is it. You and me.